Grasping At Embers
by NZ-Juxtapose
Summary: In their 6th year at Hogwarts, the trio are finding their lives turned upside down...things are not as they seem. Ron&Draco main pairing SLASH. Other pairings Ron&Harry, Harry&Seamus etc...WARNING:Violence
1. Chapter One

Part One

"Weasley is our King"

"He didn't let the Quaffle in, Weasley is our…"

Ron beamed from his perch on Kelgarr's shoulders. He never tired of hearing every Gryffindor chant his name. 

Second match into his sixth year at Hogwarts and Gryffindor had once again beaten the other house into submission. He felt rather proud of himself, he'd finally found his niche, something he was actually good at. Okay, there was chess and he was pretty much unchallenged there, but Quidditch, that brought recognition and fame and…well girls.

The fairer sex… Oh yes, Ronald Weasley had discovered girls and finally they had discovered him in return. He adored Quidditch and he'd never dream of rubbishing its significance in his life, but women practically throwing themselves at his feet… well that was hard to ignore. 

Since coming back to Hogwarts after a summer of gruelling training, Ron had found himself the focal point of the entire school. Even Hermione had switched her attention from Harry to him. Ron still wasn't sure how he felt about that. He kinda preferred that she watch Harry then interfere with his life. 

He loved Mione, but as a friend, a buddy, a chum…nothing serious like real love. Boy, he was only sixteen, how could he concentrate on one woman when his libido screamed that there was plenty of lovin' to go around.

Marcus Kelgarr squeezed his thigh and Ron squirmed uncomfortably at the intimate touch. He was reminded that not only women had been drawn to him since coming back to Hogwarts with a body to die for. 

Not that he'd ever looked hideous; it's just with all the long hours of Quidditch practise with his brothers, his once lanky body had filled out over the summer. Muscles graced his arms, his long legs, even his chest had been transformed by all the exercise. Of course his mum had plied him with healthy doses of carbohydrate enriched food, together sculpting a physique his peers seemed to be drooling over. 

Yes, it was a little embarrassing, but nice also…being the one in the spotlight for a change.

Marcus, new to the school (he had transferred from Beauxbatons…to be honest he'd been expelled for unacceptable behaviour and Dumbledore had been gracious enough to give the young man another chance at Hogwarts) still he had not wasted anytime in making his feelings known to Ron. 

He was flattered, he really was. Marcus was good looking, gorgeous even, he was just trouble and of course most importantly, he was male. Ron had garnered a fair bit of male attention, which made him feel some what nervous. He had never really thought about other guys like that, not sexually, not like that…well not exactly.

Marcus was aggressive in his pursuit of Ron and so far he'd managed to avoid being cornered by the Beater. He felt lucky to have two close friends such as Harry and Hermione…the trio went everywhere together. 

Ron had no idea what would happen if he was ever found alone in some dark corridor; he shuddered to think. Some of the lecherous comments that were whispered his way, made the tiny hairs at the back of his neck stand up on end. 

Women batting their eyes, swinging their hips and giggling in his presence…he could manage. Men rubbing up against him, groping his butt, whispering how they wanted to lash him to the goal post and make him scream… he had no idea how to deal with that type of information, other than ignore it.

"Ron…Ron…"

He looked down to see Hermione smiling up at him. Ron flashed her a grin, tapping Marcus on the forearm, indicating that he wanted to get down. 

Marcus pouted, but nonetheless unwound his arms from around Ron's legs. Ron swallowed a sigh of relief at being rescued at last. He didn't want to hurt Marcus's feelings, but he didn't think he could have stood another minute of being felt up by the guy either. Thank god for the flawless timing of his best friend. 

As he slid off Marcus's back, the man spun to face him. Ron lurched back at the sudden nearness; his body struggling to give him the much needed balance to remain upright. The grass under him was slippery with the heavy rain that had plagued the entire match. Still it hadn't stopped them from winning. 

A huge hand had slammed into his chest nearly pitching Ron backwards, except that same hand had fisted the sodden material of his uniform and now yanked him sharply forward into a wall of muscle. 

Ron gasped, spluttering as he reached out blindly, pushing against Marcus's vice-like grip. He suddenly let go and Ron stumbled backwards, but somehow remained on his feet. 

Hermione rushed towards him.

"Ron, are you alright?" 

Wiping a hand shakily across his face, Ron nodded furiously before catching his breath and answering "I'm fine, Mione" not daring to look at her or Marcus who had also moved closer. "Been flying for hours, hadn't thought about how slippery the ground would be…" Ron laughed, but it was forced and he just hoped that they wouldn't notice.

"Well…you are rather clumsy. You shot up so tall over the summer, maybe you need more practise on the ground" she teased. It was a dig at his inflated ego because of all the attention he was getting. 

Ron blushed, pushing back the strands of dark red hair that had fallen over his eyes. She was grinning at him and he couldn't help but return with a cheeky grin of his own.

Marcus intruded by slipping in between Hermione and himself. He gazed at Ron through a forest of wet lashes; his was a slightly predatory grin that had Ron struggling for a way out.

He was just about to spout some excuse for leaving, when Harry bet him to it.

"Marcus, hey…" he winked at Ron in passing "Dumbledore is looking for you, seems there's a talent scout interested in offering you a place in his team"

Marcus frowned "I didn't know they offered positions to students. Do you know what team?"

Harry shrugged "No. Was just told to come find you." 

Marcus hesitated; he seemed to be weighing up the option of staying there with Ron or finding out if he had a chance of a career as a professional Quidditch player. Seemed Quidditch had won out as he quickly said his goodbyes and promised to catch up with Ron later in the common room.

The three watched him go before Hermione turned to Harry and Ron, eyebrow arched.

"Oh I don't know Ron…I think its sweet the way he dotes over you, he's so obviously smitten."

Ron rolled his eyes at his friend. He wasn't going to have this conversation again. Not just after they had beaten Slytherin. It was time to celebrate, to party and be merry. 

"You really should tell him you aren't interested, stringing him along like…"

"I'm not stringing him anywhere Mione" he growled. "I just…"

"You don't want to hurt him," she stated.

"Something like that," he mumbled. 

Harry just stood there and watched. Like Ron, he too did not want to talk about Marcus or any of the others who had took to stalking his red headed friend. 

"Was there really a talent scout?" Ron touched Harry's shoulder.

Harry swung around to face him "No," he whispered. "You looked in need of rescuing so what does the great Harry Potter do, but throw himself into the jaws of death…"

Ron pursed his mouth, his top teeth scraping over the moist plumpness of his bottom lip. Tilting his head to the side he tried not to laugh. 

"You were stuck all summer with Dudley watching some god-awful movie on that telly contraption. Weren't you?"

Harry smiled "Something like that." he answered. 

All of a sudden they were surrounded, as the rest of Gryffindor converged on the three of them. Ron was once again hoisted on somebody's shoulders to be paraded around. He lost sight of Harry and Hermione as they were both swallowed up by a sea of chanting faces. 

"Weasley is our King…" 

Someone pinched him on the bum. His head whipped around to catch the culprit, but he couldn't be sure who had groped him. There were so many people encircling him, not all fellow Gryffindor's either. He recognized a few Ravenclaw's in the midst; he even noticed a Hufflepuff singing loudly along with the others. What was his name? He was their Seeker; he was certain that was him. What was his name? 

Ron felt trapped, all these faces gazing up at him with adoring eyes. Why him? He had done nothing to deserve such a following. For gods sake, he wasn't Harry! 

Neville beamed up at him to his right, it couldn't have been him… 

Surely not…

"Weasley can save anything…" they all chanted around him.

Just when Ron thought he might scream, Professor McGonagall made an appearance. She narrowed her beady gaze to that of Seamus, who promptly released Ron.

Her eyes twinkled directly at him for an instant. Ron gave her a grateful smile in return.

"I think that's quite enough of the chanting." Her eyes flicking to each student, making sure all of them understood that there would be no more singing. "Although I'm very proud of Gryffindor's achievements…" mouth twitching into a gentle smile, lifting those deep wrinkles from around her mouth. Everyone grinned back at her "but…" and all of them fell silent, they knew not to say anything when their professor was about to start one of her rants. " I'm quite sure that the entire faculty, not to mention the rest of the school has had quite enough of this infernal racket. Yes, we all agree that what Ronald Weasley has accomplished is to be commended. Yet all of you have worked diligently to raise my expectations of this house. You are all to be congratulated, now go celebrate."

The silence was broken as someone yelled out "Yes…let's go party!!" Everyone roared their approval and started off towards the common room.

Professor McGonagall stood by Ron as the others left. Harry and Hermione began to follow the others. 

"Are you coming Ron?" Harry called to his friend. 

Ron was about to answer when Professor McGonagall interrupted.

"I need to speak to Ron for just a moment. Run along, he'll be there shortly" she indicated with a flick of one bony hand for them to leave.

Harry gave Ron one last look before catching up with Hermione. 

Ron watched them go with longing on his face. He really didn't want to be here alone with his Transfiguration Professor. What did she want with him? Ron wracked his brain for anything he might have done wrong. 

"Calm yourself Mr Weasley. You will give yourself quite the migraine if you continue to fluster about in this way." she snapped at him as Ron squirmed in her presence. 

Turning kind eyes towards him she whispered "I only held you back for you seemed a little harassed and appeared to need a breather from your… fans"

Ron blushed "Yes…thank you professor." He hung his head sheepishly "Thank you for that" he murmured.

She smiled down at him, patting him on the head before leaving him to his own devices. 

He felt foolish for panicking about nothing. One thing that hadn't changed about him, his emotions still ruled over him. 

Ron sighed and turned to gaze upon the empty field before him. It truly had been a good game. He wandered towards the Broom shed, a store room shared by all of the houses. 

Pushing open the door gently, he peaked in to make sure it was quite empty before entering. Ron found it was deserted, obviously everyone had returned to the castle.

Turning to make sure no one would see him slip inside, he spun back, nudging the door just enough for him to step inside. Closing the door solidly behind him, he sighed in relief. 

"Finally… alone." he breathed, leaning back against one of the shelves.

"Think again… Weasley," someone drawled.

Ron started, jumping away from the shelf and causing several brooms lying there to clatter to the floor.

"Who's there?" he snarled. 

Draco Malfoy sauntered out from around the corner of the Slytherin cupboard. 

"Malfoy…" Ron growled, his good mood obliterated by the haughty entrance of his worst enemy. 


	2. Chapter Two

Part Two

"Hallo Weasley, hiding from your admirers are you?" Draco leaned casually against a low shelf bursting with the rolled up Quidditch flags of all four Hogwarts houses. He stretched his arms along the top, lifting his chin slightly to gaze coolly over at Ron. 

Ron glared back at him, refusing to answer. Oh, he knew he was being pig-headed and childish, but Malfoy always seemed to bring out the worst in him. 

Draco lifted one perfectly sculptured eyebrow at Ron's obstinate stance. He refused to be subjected to another of the boy's juvenile 'staring competitions.' Still he felt no need to leave Ron alone either. He rather fancied annoying the Gryffindor for a little longer. 

Turning his head from those luminescent blue eyes, he concentrated on making patterns in the dust with his long elegant fingers. Obviously the house-elves had never been directed to clean the storeroom, he thought that rather odd as he'd always imagined Dumbledore as a stickler for cleanliness in his school.

"Why are you here Malfoy?" Ron demanded. He took a threatening step towards the blonde, but then thought better of it. 

"Why do you think? Just because you're a favoured Gryffindor, don't think you have the right to monopolize every area of the school. I don't see your name over the door, do you?" Draco snapped, his eyes narrowing at the red head that looked equally as peeved.

Draco couldn't believe he'd let himself be manipulated into his old ways. Not after the past summer, it was appalling. What was it about Weasley that made his icy veneer shatter and his common sense desert him in a matter of seconds? 

Before Draco could clamp a hand over his own treacherous mouth, the hot acid just rolled off his tongue, he had no control.

"Oh, I see…" he winked at Ron before smiling nastily. 

Those freckled hands tightly curled into fists, that face infused with such rage that his lips actually trembled. Such restraint, he was sure Weasley would have reached for his wand before now.

"Am I intruding in your snog-fest with Kelgarr?" Draco's eyebrows rising in a flash. Oh he knew by the answering flicker that raced across Ron's face, that he'd struck a nerve. He should have backed off then, but that would have been no fun at all. 

"It's really quite disgusting the way he simpers after you like you were special. The Kelgarr's and the Malfoy's have always shared a similar view in how the world should be. We move in the same circles, so I'm certain that we shall receive an invitation to the upcoming union."

Ron growled, turning his head from Malfoy. He really should just walk away, but could never manage to do just that.

"Will you be wearing white on that day" Draco paused as if in deep thought over the matter. He knew he had Ron's complete attention even if his body language said something else. "I just don't know if that would be wise. What with that shocking mop of unruly hair and those blotches all over your skin. I think that colour would clash hideously. Although I'm sure you'll make a lovely bride and be quite the homemaker for Marcus. Children though…launching another Weasley breed on the world…"

"Shut up!" Ron spluttered. Malfoy was the last person he needed teasing him about Marcus. He desperately wanted to wring the toe-rag's neck for even opening his mouth. 

Draco sneered at Ron before turning his attention to the nails on his right hand, stretching out his long fingers to admire the work of his manicurist and effectively ignoring Ron in the process. 

On second thoughts, when did he ever need an excuse to launch into Malfoy? Forgetting entirely about his wand, Ron tore across the space that separated them and pounced. 

Only it seems Draco was a little more prepared for the attack then he had expected.

"Wingardium Leviosa." 

Ron found instead of his fists being entwined in the Quidditch robes of his enemy, that they had captured empty air.

His arms flapping hysterically in midair, panic setting in as he realized Malfoy wasn't where he was supposed to be to break his fall.

Ron was vaguely aware of the broomsticks that had levitated around him, before tripping over them and smacking his head on the Slytherin cupboard, after that, all went black. 

His eyes fluttered open a short time later, his vision swimming in and out of focus until his brain connected with what he was seeing. Draco Malfoy was leaning over him, his fingers gripping Ron's shoulder painfully. He swung his fist back and punched Draco on the nose. 

Draco reeled back out of Ron's line of sight. 

"Bloody hell, what did you do that for?" he bit out. Both of his hands had flown to his injured nose and he rocked back and forth as blood dribbled over his fingers, staining his precious robes. 

Ron maneuvered himself into a sitting position with one hand plastered to his forehead and the other supporting the entire weight of his shaky frame. He blinked at Draco several times before realizing that he'd been asked a question. What had been the question? 

Draco glared dangerously through steepled fingers that hid his face from Ron's eyes. 

Oh…

He remembered now. He'd taken a swing at Malfoy and Ron had to grin that at last he'd wiped that smirk off the pompous gits face.

Ron groaned loudly, smiling just aggravated the pounding in his skull. Damn it, why did Malfoy have to be here. He should be at the Gryffindor party right now, dodging the wandering hands of one Marcus Kelgarr, but instead he was here. 

He moaned again, squeezing his eyes shut as if he could block out the agony "I wish I was home. I wish I was home," he whispered. 

Draco slid up beside him. "What are you going on about?" he drawled 

Ron's eyes glowered threateningly, a warning for the Slytherin not to come any closer. Draco of course ignored it. Rolling his eyes in a dramatic fashion, he reached over and pried Ron's fingers off the weeping gash on his forehead. 

Ron struggled "Get off me, Malfoy." he screamed.

Draco pursed his lips and scowled "Do you want it to stop hurting or not?" 

Ron slapped away the heavenly cool fingers poking at his wound. 

"I'm fine Malfoy. Just stop touching me and go away!!" he howled as shooting pain lanced through his skull. "Okay, please do something, hurry."

Draco raised an eyebrow, but remained silent. He inched forward so that he sat in front of Ron, reaching into his robes he extracted his wand. 

The pain was throbbing relentlessly in his brain now "Hurry, please…" Ron whimpered. 

A gentle breeze blew against his face, just before a warm pressure collided with his skin and seemed to burrow inside his head. He had heard Malfoy recite some incantation, but the words escaped him. He felt dizzy, emotions Ron could not define washed through him. Oh… he felt really, really good. 

"Wow, what is this Malfoy? I feel giddy…this is amazing," Ron laughed breathlessly. 

Draco had to grin at the sappy expression on Ron's face. He remembered just how it felt to have the spell cast on him. Everything had been bliss and you could forget for awhile the things that you had been told. How those same things blew apart your treasured place in this world.

He lurched back "What are you…looking at?" Draco stuttered. Weasley was practically sitting in his lap; he was way to close for comfort.

Ron began to laugh, no to giggle "I'd have sworn I hit you, there was all this blood, your blood, but there's nothing, its all gone poof" he was in hysterics now. Ron reached out to experimentally pinch Draco's nose. 

"Ow! Don't do that Weasley. How dare you… its still tender!" Draco growled, placing a hand over his nose to protect it from roaming fingers. 

Ron's giggles turned into hiccups as he juggled all this confusion. It felt like those muggle balls of cotton, had been stuffed into his head. It was nice, but frustrating him no end. 

Draco had helped him; he shouldn't be doing that, it was wrong. Then Ron realized Draco had just told him something important. 

Ron's eyes went wide "So I did hit you then, socked you one right in the…" he pouted at the anger in those grey eyes "I'm sorry" he mumbled, not meeting Malfoy's steady gaze.

Draco frowned, why was the Gryffindor looking all sheepish and contrite? Weasley should be gloating, not responding to his small act of compassion with his own. Still he couldn't help, but watch Weasley with a quiet amusement. 

Unfortunately, or depending on how you looked at it, his impatience got the better of him. "Are you finished?" he retorted. 

Ron turned his face towards Draco, tears of mirth making his eyes water hopelessly. Cheeks flushed, he panted slightly…all of this was rounded off with the most pure and dare he say, sweet expression. It was as if Ron was thinking really hard on what he'd asked of him. Draco almost felt like laughing himself. 

"Yes, I think so," Ron pondered, straightening from his hunched over position. He had clamped a hand over his side, he had the stitch he'd been laughing so hard. 

Draco nearly asked Ron what was wrong, but stopped himself before those fatal words could be spoken. He stared at Ron a moment before stating.

"Well, it's been fun. I have to go."

Ron shrugged; his voice had a faraway dreamy quality. "Okay, see you."

Draco frowned in concern "You should leave, don't you have a party to attend?"

Ron perked up "Yes…yes I do," he grinned.

Draco nodded absentmindedly, shuffling his feet. "Well then bye," he muttered and stepped around Ron's frozen form. He was at the entrance when he heard Weasley's whispered "Bye Draco."

He hesitated, but kept moving. As he pulled the door open and the rain pelted down on his expensive shoes. He uttered "By the way, congratulations on winning. You must have trained hard over the summer." He faltered for a moment, realizing he'd never said a kind word to Weasley in his life. "I just wanted to say you deserve your place on that team and I think they should make you captain." and he was gone, the door slamming into place. 

Ron just stood there with his mouth gaping stupidly. What had Malfoy just done? He'd complimented him and Ron was completely flabbergasted. 

It took blinking some twenty, thirty times before his brain absorbed every detail of what Malfoy had said to him. In two strides he had made it to the door, yanked it open and ran out into the torrential rain, lightening cracked open the sky all around him in a spectacular show of power.


	3. Chapter Three

Part Three

Harry sat dejectedly on an over-stuffed couch in the Gryffindor common room. Ginny Weasley was snoring lightly against his shoulder, how she could sleep with all this noise, he had no idea. 

Hermione was somewhere; he'd lost track of her whereabouts and then remembered she was quite capable of fending for herself. The last bloke that had been fool enough to play her ended up having to shower in the Quidditch change rooms, in the wee hours of the morning. Every time the poor boy stripped his butt would start crooning like Sinatra on acid. Harry had to admit it had been hilarious and the kid a butt of many a practical joke for months after… 

Harry cringed inwardly at the awful pun. 

The party was in full swing; to be honest it had been swinging for well over an hour and no sign of their champion. What the hell was Ron up too?

Professor McGonagall had come and left. Still no Ron. Harry had expected to see his best friend tagging along behind his teacher, but he hadn't appeared. McGonagall had informed him that Ron needed some space, that he would arrive shortly and not to worry, but enjoy the victory without him for awhile.

Harry couldn't find the energy to celebrate another win against Slytherin; not without Ron's wild enthusiasm to egg him on. It just didn't seem worth it unless his redheaded friend was here to share in humiliating those death-eater wannabe's.

Several times he had got up to look for Ron himself, but had been thwarted at the last second every time. The first time it had been Seamus pouncing on him moments before he reached the portrait hole. He had been dragged over to join in some drunken singing, headed by the surprisingly talented voice of one Neville Longbottom.

They had thrust him into the centre of their circle and asked Harry to devise lines for their impromptu Gryffindor cheer. He had not been nearly plastered enough to entertain that idea. After that embarrassment, he sneaked away while they were all distracted by Seamus, who had suddenly felt the need to strip bare and wrestle a surprised Neville to the floor.

Unfortunately, just as Harry thought he'd managed to escape, Ginny had latched onto his arm and like a tenacious limpet she refused to budge. Hence the reason why he was squashed up against the arm of the couch, the dead weight of a comatose Weasley making his shoulder ache with ruthless persistence. For a slight girl, she was bloody heavy. He wouldn't have minded had it been another Weasley entirely, but he refused to even go there. 

Harry had just about made up his mind to ditch the lousy appointment as Ginny's comfy cushion, so that he could go look for Ron in earnest. God help anyone who got in his way this time around. 

He tried shrugging his shoulders, nudging her head in a series of none too gentle jabs, but the girl went right on sleeping through all of it. Harry realized he would have to be brutal if he wanted out of this increasingly painful situation. He took a handful of her auburn locks and was about to tug, when fingers brushed in front of his face on the way to slapping the girl sharply across her cheek. 

Harry missed the anger that consumed Ginny's features as she was jolted awake by the sting of her brother's hand. Harry had turned his startled expression upwards and found himself openly gaping at his best friend. Ronald Weasley was leaning casually over the back of the couch in a lazy sprawl. Harry could imagine those long legs casually stretched out behind Ron's body, the wet material of his pants hugging the contours of his thigh, gorgeously tempting him from the richly carpeted floor. 

It was a good thing then, that those limbs were concealed from his vision by that most unwelcome piece of furniture...damn.

Ron was beaming down at him, he was soaked to the bone, his Quidditch uniform clung to his body far too provocatively for Harry's liking and he was also way too close for comfort. Ron shook his curls like a bad dog who had been playing where he shouldn't. Droplets of cold water rained down on Harry's face making him shiver with a rising hunger. Oh to taste those beads with his tongue.

Trying not to be too obvious, Harry leaned forward away from the tempting apparition hovering behind his left shoulder. He squeezed his eyes shut as he attempted to block the warmth of that breath prickling across the back of his neck.

Ron clapped him across the back and Harry all but flew off the couch. He instantly regretted his behaviour as he heard Ron laughing heartily behind his paralyzed form.

"Harry… you sure are jumpy. Do you think I'm going to tackle you to the floor and use you as my personal body pillow like my sister?" 

Harry gulped, not sure how to respond to that. Berating himself on his continued silence, not to mention that he'd failed to turn around and face his best friend as yet. 

He heard a hard slap, then an "Ouch, what was that for?"

"What was that for?" Ginny shrieked. "You slapped me first."

Harry slowly turned around to discover the two siblings facing off across the couch, an innocent mass of wood, stuffing and burgundy material between them. Before he even thought about what the heck he was doing, Harry had leaped up on the couch to intervene. 

Ginny of course, had chosen that moment to grab for her brother, hitting Harry across the bridge of his nose instead, sending his glasses flying.

"Harry!" she yelped. Reaching out to him as he sunk into the cushions, his right hand curled protectively over his wounded nose.

Well, that was the last time he got in the middle of fight where two Weasley's were concerned. Ginny had a mean right hook; it obviously wasn't a good idea to get on her bad side. 

Harry could feel, well actually... the truth is he couldn't feel a darn thing. His nose was numb. He was though conscious of the blood dribbling through his fingers and over his lips. He had a sudden urge to lick them clean; it was only the presence of one Ron Weasley looming over him… that stopped him in mid-action. 

His tongue frozen between his lips as Ron continued to stare worriedly at him. Harry wanted to explain that he was alright but his throat was dry. He coughed nervously, digging into the pockets of his robe for a hankie. It seemed Aunt Petunia drilling into him the importance of cleanliness had obviously sunken in. Extracting the tatty square of cotton from his pants he proceeded to dab at his nose, ever wary of those blue eyes watching him closely.

Just when he thought he could not endure any further scrutinizing on Ron's behalf, Ginny spoke up. 

"Ron for goodness sake, give him some room to breathe" she snapped.

He growled back at her from his crouched position by Harry's side. "You did this to him" he shouted back. Harry was just happy that Ron now had his attention wholly trained on his sister instead of him. He felt foolish reacting this way with his best friend, but he had no control on his emotions.

The sensation was returning to his nose, a slow torturous pounding that tweaked up the volume of the migraine trying its damnedest to split open his skull. Ron and Ginny had started to argue in earnest now; he tuned out their screaming match in favour of concentrating on his own pain. 

Harry fumbled once more in his robes for his wand when he remembered that he'd placed it on his bed straight after the Quidditch match. Realizing that neither of them would notice his absence, he got up and headed for the stairs.

He'd taken a couple of steps when a hand touched him lightly on the shoulder. Harry turned around expecting Ron, but found himself facing Marcus Kelgarr instead.

Oh shit…not now. Please. 

The last thing he needed was another fist in his face. Unconsciously he tightened his hand over his nose in some small bid to protect himself. 

"Harry, you alright there?"

Harry noted the slight slurring of Marcus's words. Let him be too pissed to remember that he'd sent him off on some foolish errand after Dumbledore. 

Marcus had zeroed in on the blood covering his fingers and licked his lips, a mesmerized grin playing at the corners of his mouth. 

Harry watched in sickening horror as Marcus leaned towards him. "You been in a fight, can I help? I Know a spell that could fix that right up…"his voice a harsh whisper before trailing off completely, he gazed, practically salivating at the bright red drops of blood splashing onto the thick carpet.

Harry couldn't have been more disgusted, backing away from Marcus slowly. 

"No," he answered a little too forcefully. "I'm good, really. Thanks, though." 

Harry gave him a quick grin then left hastily. 

"Are you sure, I'd really like to help?"

Harry ignored him, speeding up his retreat. On his way up to the boy's dorm rooms, he bumped into Hermione. She was comforting a distraught Ginny who was huddled on the top stair crying bitterly. 

How did she get past him? He'd only left her a moment ago arguing with Ron. Harry shook his head; he was surely in the twilight zone. He almost laughed, but even the thought made his nose throb miserably.

It was Ginny that noticed him approaching first. "Harry!" she screeched, tears running down her face, she ran down the stairs to meet him. "Oh Harry, I'm so sorry I hit you. I didn't mean to. But you got between us…"

"I should know better," he interrupted with a half-hearted attempt at laughing which ended in more spluttering. He moved back as she tried to hug him, he was not in the mood to be comforted. 

Hermione came forward, eyebrow raised. "Can't you spend one night without getting yourself injured?" she sighed

Harry shrugged helplessly "Apparently not."

Hermione grinned at him as Harry smiled sheepishly back. In truth she was only happy to help out her friend. Ginny scowled at Hermione's back as she was unceremoniously excluded from the private moment.

She huffed, stomping up the stairs and turning right into the girl's dorm before they could even open their mouths to stop her. They both stared at the empty stairwell for what felt like minutes before…"What's up with her?" Harry gurgled painfully; the blood flow had increased. Maybe it was the altitude. 

"Oh nothing," she sighed dramatically turning back to Harry. She frowned. "Here" she murmured. "Sit down." she indicated the stair below her. 

Harry did as was asked of him. Hermione drew her wand out of the folds of her skirt and gave it a quick flick in Harry's direction. 

That's all it took, Harry lifted a hand and felt his nose, everything was back where it belonged. No blood and most importantly no pain. 

"Thank you" he beamed in awe at her. "Don't mention it" she intoned and without a backward glance followed Ginny up the stairs and into the dorm room. 

It was Harry's turn to frown as he silently watched her move up the stairs and out of sight.


	4. Chapter Four

Part Four

Harry made his way down, stopping at the base of the stairs; from there he could survey the entire party. He laughed as Seamus still stripped down to his boxers, was leading the remaining Gryffindor's in a raucous chorus of 'Wild Thing' complete with air guitar and the screams of an appreciative audience.

As he continued to watch the free entertainment, he noticed Ron in a similar situation as he had been. Trapped against the couch by another, except this person was very much awake. 

Part of Harry was just content to watch Ron squirm, but the need to rescue his friend was a much stronger force to wrestle with and sent him almost catapulting across the room at the barest hint of trouble.

Ron had squeezed himself so far into the corner he was in peril of being sucked into the cushions or at least that's how he hoped it would happen. Harry had deserted him, so had Ginny and now he was live bait for the one person he was in no mood to 'chat' with, Marcus. 

He'd had a splendid game, where they'd wiped the pitch with those cheating Slytherin's. Had found himself alone with the usually obnoxious Draco Malfoy, only to be congratulated on the thrashing of his team mates and then praised on how hard he must have worked over the summer, saying he should be captain. 

Oh god how he wanted to tell Harry about that. Malfoy was most definitely up to no good. This must be his latest attempt to worm his way under his skin, he was like some rash…you just had to scratch; he was inescapable. 

Instead of Harry, he had Marcus and there was no way he'd mention Draco to him. Marcus would probably thump Draco for even speaking to him. He was that possessive of Ron. So why wasn't he thinking that was a good idea? This was Draco after all. Would be nice to have his own personal goon only too willing to do his bidding.

Ron couldn't possibly do a thing like that because he wasn't wired that way. Besides, then Marcus would demand something in return and that was not a road Ron ever intended to take.

So he had to wait until Harry showed up. He just had to, as it was an unwritten rule that his friend was around to rescue him from the advances of others like Marcus. So Ron had no choice but to hope that Harry would appear. Oh god please Harry. Where the hell are you?

Marcus had been going on about something, he really hadn't been listening that closely. The odd word filtered through every so often, "He was so impressed…" "One so young …" "Talented…" "Could be the best he'd ever had the pleasure of watching…"

Whatever, it was always the same drivel consisting of ample doses of self-love upon ego. Oh yeah they were the same thing. 

Ron resisted the urge to roll his eyes as Marcus took liberty not only to bore him silly, but place his hands on his body as well. Slowly he'd been maneuvered across the couch until he had nowhere to run. 

"Harry?" he screamed in his head. If he had the balls he would have just shoved Marcus away from him and told him in no uncertain terms to back the hell off. It wasn't that he was a coward…okay he was when it came to Marcus Kelgarr but, his temper was legendary and not one person was brave enough to cross the guy.

"Ron, you know how I feel, so let's drop…"

"No… STOP. RIGHT. THERE." Ron abruptly shouted. It took all his will not to just run right then. 

Goddamn it, _now_ Marcus chooses to be direct. Ron could practically see the thunder rolling over Marcus's face. Those handsome contours shrouded in shadow. Oh Shit.

"I'm sorry, really. I just don't feel that way about uh, other males. I'm strictly a boy who chases after girls kinda guy." He babbled, grinning with false bravado. 

Marcus was adding nothing, but a stony silence. The clouds above were thick, nasty looking and suffocating him with malicious glee. Ron was stealing himself for the first blow, but it never came. 

Instead Harry came, a little late, but at least he had arrived. 

"Harry!" Ron announced. Finally the moment had come where he could get off the couch. He half expected Marcus to sit on him so that he wouldn't move, but he didn't stop him at all. As an alternative to carnage he sneered viciously at Harry.

Harry in turn flinched at the chilly expression. Not knowing why he deserved such open hostility. 

"It's him then?" Marcus barked, jabbing a finger in Harry's direction. 

"What?" Ron scowled. He had backed up till he was as close to the roaring fire, crackling seductively in the grate as he dared. The warmth seeped into his bones…it was heaven. He knew one thing; he had lost interest in what Marcus was going on about. He sighed in absolute bliss. 

A log in the fire collapsed sending up a shower of sparks. One touched him on the side of the neck. "Ouch!!" he winced, lurching forward as he rubbed his scorched skin vigorously, throwing nasty looks at the fire crackling behind him.

Both Harry and Marcus rushed forward. Ron noticed Marcus's approach and held out his hand, palm up. "I'm alright, will you stop this, nothings going to happen between us." He scowled. Why wasn't he getting through to him? 

Marcus paused so suddenly in his pursuit that Harry crashed into his backside. He whipped around and grasped a handful of Harry's shirt, yanking him forward until they were nose to nose. He growled, his eyes flashing dangerously. 

Harry's eyes widened in alarm, he desperately struggled to get out of his clutches but to no avail. Marcus's hands were like iron manacles, the more he strained against his hold, the more they seemed to tighten. 

Marcus was actually trying to throttle him with his own shirt…in a room full of witnesses. Then just as suddenly as it had begun, he was released. The shock was so great that Harry's knees buckled and he collapsed onto the floor.

Harry remained on the floor, his heart pounding in his chest. He listened as the entire room fell silent and Marcus's boots could be heard moving away from him and out of the Gryffindor common room. 

"Well that was fun. I suppose I deserved that for sending him on a nonexistent errand after Dumbledore. Surprised I got off that lightly really" he panted, wiping a hand over his forehead to eliminate the cold sweat that made him want to shiver in disgust. He'd cowered in front of the enemy and Harry Potter did no such thing. 

A lightly freckled hand came into view and without looking up he seized it with his own. Beaming up at his best friend, he let Ron haul him to his feet.

"Harry?" Ron slid a hand over his shoulder, patting it awkwardly.

Harry nodded his head and tried not to concentrate on that warm hand on his skin "I'm fine…bit of excitement," he laughed feebly.

Ron moved back to give his friend some room, "You do know that Dumbledore apparently covered for you. Told him that the talent scout had to leave suddenly and would be back next match."

Harry gaped. "Dumbledore covered for me!" he squeaked in astonishment. He'd have to thank the Headmaster later. If Marcus didn't know the errand was a ruse to get him away from Ron, then why the hell had he been so furious? 

Ron watched the emotions play across Harry's face and he knew the question burning in Harry's mind before he even asked. Ron shook his head "I don't know why he attacked you. He was drunk and maybe that had something to do with it."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe…" He whispered, but he doubted it.

Oh, Ron knew why Marcus had been ready to thump Harry into next week. He was insanely jealous; he thought Harry was his lover. It was laughable, but he suspected Harry may not find it as funny. 

Ron had known something was up with Harry for awhile now and he believed that Harry may have a small crush on him. In no way would he actually encourage it. Still it was nice to be adored by the likes of Harry Potter. He kinda wished he felt the same way. Men just did nothing for him sexually, a pity really. At least he understood his own sex; women were a complete and utter mystery. They thoroughly baffled him. It was true what that muggle author wrote, we were from other planets. Mars and Venus were never so bloody far apart.

Harry was pacing restlessly between the couch and the fireplace. It only took Ron stepping into his path to snap him out of his racing thoughts. Harry switched his heavy gaze from the floor to Ron. His friend knew more about Marcus's behaviour then he was telling. Why was he lying to him? 

He thought about asking, and then decided it could wait for another time, a more appropriate time, when there was less of an audience and more of a chance his friend wouldn't start hurling objects at him. If there was such a perfect moment…this seemed fairly doubtful.

Was Harry even aware that his feelings were that transparent? Ron didn't think so. He felt those eyes studying him intently and the blush that was beginning to infuse his cheeks. He quickly turned and stepped up to the fire's edge. Ron held his hands up to warm his fingers as if he craved the heat. If one thing was certain, heat was the last thing he needed, but it was necessary to mask his flushed face. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass his friend by advertising the fact that 'he knew'. Besides he dreaded the conversation and the possible break up that would certainly come with such knowledge.

Instead he chose to change the topic of conversation. "Come on Harry, we beat Slytherin. Any day we get one up on that lot is a good day indeed." He wasn't quite prepared to leave the safe haven that the fire brought, but the continued moping of his friend was a significant dilemma that was in need of rectifying.

Taking a running jump from fireplace to the couch, he leapt. Ron giggled uncontrollably as the springs made him bounce erratically. Keeping up the momentum he glanced back at Harry and smiled cheekily. 

"Hey, you lot. Is this party dead or are you all geriatric farts that need your rest?" he screamed at the room.

He got a lot of drunken muttering back that insisted he, "Shut the hell up."

Ron laughed hysterically at the reply, bouncing higher; had to love these old pieces of furniture, they sure were springy. 

Harry had to grin; Ron's enthusiasm was always infectious. He continued to smile as Ron found himself attacked by Seamus, who took a swan dive for his legs, coercing another round of giggles out of him. Once again Ron found himself hoisted on the guy's shoulders and paraded around. 

"Aww, Ron we missed you. Where did ya go? Harry here, was particularly upset over your absence."

Harry was still grinning at them when Ron happened to look down at him with a highly amused glint in his eye. It was at that moment that Seamus's words finally sunk in. He could have strangled the Irish git. Harry flustered, his mouth dry, his whole face stained beetroot.

Before Ron had even contemplated about what he was doing, he'd started laughing very loudly, batting his eyes at Harry in an exaggerated feminine manner. 

"Oh Harry, I'm so flattered you missed me."

Seamus giggled, twirling him around on his shoulders. Dipping and swaying to music that only he could hear. Ron gripped onto the mop of unruly curls as Seamus lurched all over the room, scattering Gryffindor's every which way as he charged towards them. Ron tugged at the silky strands, winding his fingers in Seamus's hair as he was spun around faster. They were both in endless fits of giggles, a blur of faces in front of their eyes.

Pausing to take a breath, Seamus winked at Harry before taking off around the room again, Harry scowled back at him. Neville was in hot pursuit, a jug of frothy butterbeer clenched in his fist. He had managed to slosh the icy contents on everyone they passed.

There were screams of outrage as squares of cheese attached to potentially lethal sticks were hurled at their heads as they whizzed by. 

"Whoa, slow down horsy," Ron gave the hair between his legs a particularly vicious tug. "Can you stop with the spinning, my head still rings from when Goyle smacked me with that darn bludger."

Of course Seamus deliberately ignored Ron's request, he was having far too much fun to envisage stopping now. 

"High ho, Silver" he bellowed, managing a fairly deft impression of a whinnying stallion, complete with flared nostrils and hoof pawing at the stone floor. Oh yeah! He was getting ready to charge a group of unsuspecting girls who were whispering in one corner of the room. 

He hadn't even started to stampede across to them, when they were both pelted with an avalanche of fruit, vegetables and even a few crackers smeared in pate.

"Oi, who did that?"

A dozen hands shot up and he grinned back, wagging his finger at them in mock anger. 

Then suddenly everything was not alright, Seamus's grin fell away and he abruptly staggered violently to the left. Ron clung on, his hands curling tightly around Seamus's forearms. 

Seamus was buckling under the strain of having the redhead on his back. A minute later Ron found himself dumped bodily onto the couch. The instant he was free Seamus clapped both hands over his mouth, he looked positively green.

"Oh no…" Ron yelped as Seamus lurched toward him. He scrambled backwards, toppling over the arm as the boy pleaded frantically with his bloodshot eyes. 

"No you don't," roared Ron from the floor. "Run, go to the bathrooms. You are not…"

Seamus suddenly doubled over moaning "Oh god… I'm going to…"

"Hurl?" added Neville helpfully. 

Seamus nodded harshly and then groaned again.

Harry rushed forward, armed with a silver bowl bursting with crisps. He desperately searched for some place to dump them, when Seamus whimpered quietly, sinking to the floor. Without hesitation Harry tipped the entire contents over the side of the couch and shoved the now empty bowl under Seamus's nose. Just in time as the boy heaved violently.

Ron jumped to his feet "Hey!" he scowled. 

He had crisps in his hair, sticking to his clothes. Harry snorted at the indignant look on his friends face. He continued rubbing Seamus's back in a soothing manner as Ron shook a hail of crumbs out of his vibrant hair.

His redheaded friend threw him a glare before registering that Seamus was close by busy throwing up. His face wrinkled in repulsion "Oh, that's disgusting."

Harry snorted again "Well, yeah…"


	5. Chapter Five

Part Five

Ron groaned as he squeezed his eyes tightly closed. A shaft of mid-morning sun was trying to sear brutally through his eyelids and fry his few remaining brain cells. 

What was it about good friends plus alcohol that made you feel all cuddly and fuzzy at the time, but in the morning had you upchucking so violently you'd swear major organs had liquefied and also been purged?

Oh god.

Ron could have sworn it had been dark only minutes ago. It was the last time he'd scrambled out of bed and darted into the bathroom. He shrank back further into his tangled sheets as that beam of monstrous light had the audacity to creep between his curtains and into his bed.

Lifting his head off the pillow was more difficult then it looked. Muscles refused to budge on command and his head throbbed in protest at being disturbed from its resting place. Still, with much grunting, he managed to flip himself over and bury his head in the warm expanse of naked skin nestled beside him.

Fuck.

He sprang from the pillow into a sitting position, only to groan in agony as a particularly nasty thud of something…well bloody nasty indeed stabbed at his brain insistently. 

"Oh fuck," he gasped and collapsed back on the pillow. There was someone in his bed, but he was damned if he cared right at this very moment. Ron closed his eyes and nuzzled into the warm body aligned with his. He decided he'd fret about that after the mountain troll had grown tired of stomping on his head. 

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Harry was finally able to exhale the moment he heard Ron's breathing turn from erratic, to the gentle even breath of one deeply cradled in peaceful dreams.

He'd watched Ron stumble practically naked from the bathroom and back again all night. He couldn't sleep and it wasn't because of any hangover. Harry had built up a tolerance to alcohol over the summers spent in Dudley's company. No, as always his insomnia was due solely to the very presence of his friend. 

Except it wasn't Harry that got to share his bed, oh no it was Seamus who nabbed that pride of place he had hungered for so long. Seamus who got to have Ron's lips grazing his shoulder, those arms curving possessively over his hips, Ron's every breath ghosting over his warm flesh, trickling down his spine… the sweetest, most agonizing pleasure imaginable.

How he hated Seamus. Harry seethed with bitter jealousy that the Irish git had beaten him to the ultimate prize.

As he shook with fury under the covers of his bed, Harry wanted nothing more than to march right over there and yank Seamus from Ron's bed. Holding him up by his scraggily hair, he would punch him in the face for even daring to get that close to what was by rights…his.

Then something happened that Harry could not have predicted. Ron blindly reached for the neglected blanket that had been dispatched to the foot of the bed, fisting a handful, he yanked hard, elbowing Seamus in the process and much to Harry's extreme delight, sending an unfortunate companion rolling over the side and crashing to the floor. 

Harry tried not to laugh, really he did, but when Seamus head finally popped up and he turned his dazed expression on a very smug Harry Potter and then switched to glaring angrily at him. Harry could not help it; he burst into hysterics at the timing of such an incident. 

Ron, on the other hand, appeared to be so immersed in the dream world that he hadn't even stirred when Seamus was shoved so dramatically out of his bed. If anything he seemed to find the absence more than welcome as he stretched out luxuriously over the mattress, a smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

Seamus was rubbing his palms into his eyes and moaning incoherently. Harry, unlike before, when he'd been more than sympathetic to Seamus plight, had turned his back and closed his eyes to the obvious agony being voiced behind him. Served Seamus right for getting into bed with Ron, he deserved every ounce of pain that the hangover could wring out of him and more. 

Harry was secure in the knowledge that once Ron had slept, he would still be in need of a best friend to comfort him in his pain. That was a job Harry was more than willing to fulfil. All he had to do was be patient and wait. 

Behind his eyelids he registered a flash of intense light, followed by a small popping noise and then silence on Seamus part. Harry's eyes snapped open wide. He froze in a slightly curled foetal position, holding his breath while the wool blanket suddenly felt prickly over his bare chest, causing a desire to itch like mad. Gritting his teeth against the spiralling need to scratch, it took a warm breath ghosting over the back of Harry's neck to wrench a full body shiver out of him. 

Harry jumped, flipping over onto his back just as the curtains around his bed were yanked back violently and the wind was knocked out him as someone landed squarely over his prone body…straddling his torso.

Immediately, Harry began to struggle but the other person had the advantage of being on top of him, bloody heavy and unfortunately in the position of trapping his arms ruthlessly against the mattress. The individual's hair whispered across his face, tickling his nose and generally driving him insane, as well as blinding him from identifying his attacker. 

"Don't think I haven't seen the way you stare at your best friend…Harry. You think you're so composed. I guess this will come as a nasty shock to you…" the voice hissed in his ear, those dry lips rasping over the shell, as each word was carefully enunciated for effect.

"He. Knows!"

Harry's heart thumped painfully in his chest 'Shit.' He knew this day was coming, but he'd just planned for it to be later, perhaps at Christmas when everyone was home with family and he had Ron to himself at Hogwarts. 

If Ron knew how he felt, then it was over, all of it, their friendship, the possibility of more…he'd never have the chance now. If Ron was indeed aware and not calling him on it, then that said it all. Ron wasn't interested. 

Honestly, he'd suspected that Ron had known; still, now it was confirmed. Harry wasn't sure how to handle any of it. Harry had been entirely prepared to be Ron's shoulder to cry on, him waking up still in the throes of hangover hell. Now that plan had been ditched, he had no alternate strategy and no idea what came next. 

"Harry!" Ron blurted out in a voice that was husky from lack of sleep and threaded with barely repressed pain. He was propped up on one elbow staring at what he could only guess was foreplay he'd interrupted between his best friend and one Seamus Finnigan.

Harry could hear the distress in Ron's voice, but it wasn't until the person straddling his body leant their head back slightly and he could see the wicked grin on Seamus' face, that he understood why he'd been manipulated in to this pose. All of it had been meticulously planned. Seamus wanted Ron to see what he'd been ignoring all this time. He wanted to show Ron who Harry Potter really was, what he really desired and he should have struggled, fought, instead he just laid there and let it play out. 

Then maybe it was time for Ron to know and as Seamus bent down towards him, angling his head so that when his warm lips caressed Harry's, the alignment was just so, that he could arch his neck up to meet Seamus midway. 

Harry had forgotten that they had an audience as a wet, hot tongue pushed into his mouth causing a moan to be immediately stifled. Harry gave in to need and thrust his own tongue into the mouth so eagerly attached to his. Capturing Seamus' tongue between his lips he began to suck on it perversely, implying it to be only a taste of what was to come.

Frustrated with the whole aspect of not having the use of his hands, he wrenched them out of Seamus' iron grasp and clasped them to either side of his lovers head. Harry glided his hands upward, into sandy hair. The texture of those silky locks increasing his excitement as he combed his fingers through each gorgeous strand.

Seamus panted into that hot mouth, his heart pounding as he struggled just to hold on as Harry consumed him in the most devastating way. He'd expected Harry to balk, to hit him and then warble out some explanation to Ron, all red faced with exaggerated innocence of being touched in such an inappropriate manner. 

He hadn't bargained on this, not that he was complaining. 

His muffled groan was devoured by Harry's ferocious kiss as 'the boy who lived' thrust his pelvis up off the mattress and directly into his painfully hard erection. Seamus was fairly certain that he was already leaking through his underwear, but now he was positive that if Harry did that again…well it was going to get decidedly messy very quickly.

It was probably just as well then that Ron chose this moment to trip over his own feet as he hastily fled across the dorm for the haven of the showers. Picking himself off the floor with a grimace at twisting his ankle, he half hobbled to the bathroom, not once did he dare look back at the two writhing on the bed. 

Ron firmly closed the bathroom door and then leant heavily back against it. For a second he entertained the idea of using a locking charm, but then realized he was being far too paranoid and there were other people who may need the facilities, especially considering the night they had all had. Okay, yes he was freaking out. Because bloody hell who wouldn't be? His best friend, a man he considered to be like a brother to him was kissing another male. 

Slamming his head back against the solid oak door, he let a stream of curses fall uselessly from his lips. Ron was in shock and his brain refused to comprehend just what he had witnessed. He was disgusted and he couldn't think what else there was to say on the subject. He knew he shouldn't be acting this way, he did know about Harry and how he felt about him, but to see it, to see them doing… 

Ron waved his arms about in horror as if even the mere thought of what those two had been about to do was just too revolting for even his mind to voice. 

Some how he had wandered from the door to the shower stalls without even being conscious of his feet moving at all. Ron gasped, shrugging helplessly as he reached out to turn on the taps directly before him, a slightly glazed expression on his pale face.

Warm water pelted down on his bent head, trickling over his shoulders and down his long spine, only to cascade deliciously between his cheeks. Recent images flashed uninvitedly across his ravished mind. Ron moaned feebly into the empty stall. Its echo mocked him as his fingers urgently grasped his hard cock through a sodden layer of thin cotton. The first agonizing stroke almost became his complete undoing. 


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Harry tore his lips away from Seamus as reality crashed in around him. There had been the slamming of a door, jolting them both out of the haze of lust that had settled over them.

Pushing Seamus off him, he immediately slipped out between the sheets and stood facing Ron's empty bed. 

Oh god, what had he done?

He'd acted out of pure animal instinct. Desire for his best friend had still been simmering in his belly when Seamus chose to taunt him. How he went from hating him one moment, to wanting him the next was completely irrational. All of it was insane and now Ron had gone. 

He'd watched as Seamus had crawled into his best friend's bed. Ron passed out and in no condition to object. Harry had done nothing to stop it and although he wanted so badly to switch positions, he'd never attempted to change anything last night. 

Instead he had been furious at Seamus for having what he desired, but in truth he didn't have Ron and never would. In all sincerity Seamus had just been a lucky bastard who had managed to stumble drunkenly onto Ron's bed on the way to his own and never corrected his mistake. Harry was fairly certain that Seamus had not been in any shape to appreciate whose bed he lay in…let alone his companion. All the boy had wanted was a soft mattress to collapse on.

Why hadn't he seen this last night? Why had he been so unreasonable, so out of control? If he'd been thinking at all logically…_this_ wouldn't have happened. Regrettably, there was no going back and a hell of a mess to clean up in front of him. 

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Ron inched towards the shower wall, leaning his forehead against the sinfully cool tiles as lukewarm water pelted harshly down on his skin. The spray aimed at the back of his neck, was not nearly enough of a distraction from the images cascading through his mind or his engorged cock so perfectly hard, lying across his palm. 

He had never fantasised about his friend. Harry and sex had never entered his thoughts, well not at the same time. It was an unbelievable shock for Ron to find himself aroused by that erotic kiss and the truth was it scared him. Terrified him, so much that he was sure he was going to be sick. It disturbed him that much, this forbidden lust that itched mercilessly under the surface of his skin, setting his nerves on fire.

Still, his hands never left his erection and as he concentrated on the monotonous gush of tepid water striking his naked flesh, the leisurely journey, forever swirling down the drain in an endless cycle… he became hypnotised and therefore not responsible for his fingers gliding over his slick erection. He was not to blame.

It was not his fault when the image of Seamus' arched back, head thrown back as Harry's teeth scraped torturously over his Adams apple had Ron pressing his forehead into the tiles, squeezing his eyes shut in panic. 

Ron couldn't be condemned when his thoughts betrayed him and he mimicked the sharp cry of pleasure that had been torn out of Seamus' throat.

He tried to stop the inevitable from happening as he tightened his slick fingers over the base of his cock, as if he could somehow prevent the next onslaught of images from saturating his mind. Instead of playing back recent memories, his brain exposed new pictures of fresh torture, supplying him with just the right trigger to send him careening over the edge. 

Green, so incredibly green yet tinged with the slightest hint of grey that they seemed almost smoky.

Not trained on him, but focused exclusively on the writhing creature underneath him, under his thrall. Ron could not help but want that smouldering gaze directed at him. The thought was out before he could repress it. A flicker of heavily sated lids and suddenly those knowing eyes were seeking him out across the room.

Ron gasped against the tile. One finger circled the head of his erection, a seductive tease that brought him that much closer to losing it. 

A kiss bruised mouth stretched into a lazy grin as he thrust his pelvis down on a more than willing partner. Still, his eyes remained on Ron's as he pounded into Seamus tense body. The boy under him began to sob out his name; however those green eyes lingered solely on Ron's face, studying him, endeavouring to work him out.

Ron could not turn away as Seamus thrashed on the bed, yet Harry ignored his companion in favour of gazing openly at Ron's mouth. A tongue peeked out to lick hungrily across wet scarlet lips.

Ron groaned helplessly, he could almost taste their unique flavour on his own and he keened desperately at the distance that separated them. 

All of a sudden his fingers were coated with warm ribbons of cum as a violent orgasm rippled through him. Ron collapsed boneless against the wall, biting viciously into his upper arm to stop himself from screaming into the empty shower stall.

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Harry was on his hands and knees tossing various bits of rubbish out from under his bed, searching for that elusive left shoe, black leather boot to be exact. 

While he'd taken his time, fussing over what to wear, Seamus had thrown on a pair of faded jeans and a well loved 'Kenmore Kestrals' T-shirt and had been pacing for the past ten minutes between the door and Harry's bed. He was being ignored and didn't like it one bit. He scowled at the butt waving temptingly in his face. Harry was purposely evading conversation and he was damned if he'd allow 'the schools champion' to get away with it. 

"Oh bloody hell, can't find anything under here" Harry muttered. Seamus snorted his agreement, pausing in his stride to swipe the missing boot from its hiding place. Somehow it had managed to wedge itself halfway between the wardrobe and the wall, only Seamus misjudged its desire to be found and yanked hard, sending him and the boot toppling backwards, his feet slipping out from under him and crashing to the floor in an undignified heap.

Seamus cursed loudly, taking a deep breath through clenched teeth as his brain finally registered the agony of his butt connecting with stone. "Ow…" he whimpered, pouting at the offending shoe then realising there was a much more deserving object for his wraith. He lifted his head to glare icily at Harry who was struggling to get out from under his bed. 

Harry's entire body had jumped at Seamus' agonising scream. His dark, eternally bedraggled locks tangled in the exposed springs of the underside of his bed. When he slid backwards to see what had happened they held fast. Harry not grasping the situation, jerked harder in response to being ensnared. 

The spring let go of its prize with a gentle ripping noise. Harry's eyes watered furiously as his scream rivalled that of Seamus. He blinked stupidly at the clump of hair that clung innocently to his favourite jumper; the stark black mass resembled a miniature Puffskein against the soft grey of his cashmere jumper.

Harry was still in a trance when a moment later a shoe came hurtling through the air and clobbered him on the side of his head. Immediately he spun to face him, growling at his attacker. 

"What was that for?" he hissed, brandishing the weapon at Seamus.

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Ron switched off the taps before him; he shivered violently as he moved out of the stall and made his way to a low shelf crammed with fluffy towels. For an instant, as the soft white material slid blissfully over his exposed body, he thought of Malfoy and that gorgeous wave of pristine hair, so soft…

"Oh no" he gasped, hugging the towel closer to his naked frame. Ron had never felt so exposed. He was thinking about his own sex, in ways that had never crossed his mind. Somehow he couldn't quite believe that after one incident of becoming aroused by two friends making out, that he was suddenly all gay. It just wasn't possible…was it? 

Ron shook his head, catching the movement in the mirror over the sink to his right. 

He walked towards those haunted eyes, only as he drew near did it register that he was gazing at his own reflection. Ron flinched at the pale twin in the mirror. It was if the fire in his hair and the richness of his freckled skin had been leeched cruelly from his body.

He should have turned from his likeness, but instead he squeezed his eyes closed, gripping the edge of the sink, turning his knuckles deathly white. 

Then they came…

Flash of green hidden under a forest of dark lashes.

Curve of his arched neck, beads of sweat escaping to places unknown. 

Thrust of his hip, met with such intensely narrowed focus.

Eyebrow arched in interest.

Flick of his platinum hair.

Creamy skin that begs to be tainted.

His eyes the colour of brightly spun silver warring endlessly with flecks of icy grey.

Shadows entwining him from all sides, binding him tight. 

Regret that seeps into his brittle armour and drowning him in unrelenting sorrow. 

Pain that is so new it hasn't been mastered as yet.

Ron felt like the depraved voyeur through it all and in his mind he screamed because part of him craved, but he mustn't because it's immoral and wrong and all of those things he refuses to voice.

Why him? Why, when his life was so right, when all of his dreams were falling into place? Why now must he doubt? 

His face was ashen in the mirror as he lifted a hand to pinch his cheeks. His skin flooded to a healthy pink as he viciously tweaked at his pale complexion with shaky fingers, but he was far from healthy, he was twisted, perverted, sick…

Seconds later, he was dry heaving into the gleaming white sink. There was nothing left in his stomach to throw up and the emptiness rasped painfully against his throat, still he believed that this slight discomfort is the punishment he deserved for having such thoughts. He continued to hang his head over the cold porcelain, attempting to purge his soul.

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"You are really very annoying. Do you know that?" Seamus grated out between clenched teeth. 

Harry frowned, "I'm annoying?" 

The sandy headed boy quirked an eyebrow in response.

"You threw a shoe at me?" Harry blurted out, shaking the boot at him as evidence. 

"Exactly," Seamus smirked back at the cute boy baring his teeth at him.

Harry shook his head in bewilderment. "You do know that you are quite bonkers right?"

Seamus closed his eyes, counting to five in his head before opening them again.

"Ron" he stated. 

Harry blinked. Like that was supposed to explain everything. Okay, maybe it did in some round about way; still it didn't mean Seamus had a right to be talking about his best friend.

"We are not discussing Ron?" he gritted out.

Seamus cocked his head to the side and exhaled noisily. 

Oh, Harry recognised that sigh alright. It was the sigh that said 'you are a childish idiot and you are not mature enough to converse with me, you chicken shit.' or something along those lines. 

"You know…"

"No, don't tell me. Whatever your opinions are, I don't want to hear them" Harry interrupted the self-righteous rant he just knew was going to come traipsing out the bloke's mouth. He understood Seamus couldn't help it, he was raised a blabbermouth and always stuck his nose in everyone's business, but not with him. Anyone else, fine, but if Seamus opened his gob right now, Harry would not be responsible for the carnage that would promptly ensue. 

Seamus contemplated ignoring the threat laced in those words. His lips parted many times to enlighten Harry of his own theories on the subject, but he resisted at the deadly flare in those green orbs. He backed up a smidgen, just as the door opened and Ron entered the room, towel wound tight around his hips. Heavy curls of dusky red fell over his eyes obscuring him from view. 

Silently, he moved over to his bed and sat down on the rumpled quilt, hanging his head slightly as not to catch either Harry's or Seamus' eye. 


	7. Chapter Seven

Part Seven

The anger at Seamus fell away when Ron entered. He bit his lip hard as he tracked his best friend's journey across the room to his bed. The boot in Harry's hand was systematically being squeezed to death in the process. He felt helpless knowing Ron probably thought him disgusting, possibly even hated him for showing him that part of himself, especially since he hadn't exactly eased Ron into the fact he was gay. Oh no, he had to practically rub it in his face. What in the hell had he been thinking? 

Ron wiped his hands against the sheets distractedly, while his mind ticked over the many things he might possibly say to lighten the increasingly disturbing silence that was penetrating the room.

It was Seamus that broke the spell (so to speak) by throwing up his hands and groaning loudly "Well that's it, I've had enough." Both Ron and Harry turned their heads to stare at him. This was his cue to leave, so why wasn't he doing just that? He was waiting just in case he was needed, perhaps as a shoulder to cry on or possibly a punching bag between the two. Okay yes, that had been just the right image to get him out of there fast. "Right, well I'll be going then?" He still wasn't moving anywhere. 

Harry gave him a forced smile, as if to say 'Get the hell out of here already.' Seamus got the message. He turned tail, snatching his robe off the end of his bed as he headed for the door without a backward glance at the other two. "Sort this out yourselves," he muttered as he wrenched the handle. In all honesty Seamus tried not to slam the door behind him but, he was still so furious with 'Bloody Potter' it couldn't be helped. 

Harry flinched. The door practically vibrated with the fury it had just been assaulted with. He felt a massive twinge of guilt for brushing Seamus aside like that. It wasn't fair of him to treat what had happened between them as nothing, because that was far from the truth. It was just that he loved Ron and he was Harry's priority above all others. Their friendship meant everything to him and if he lost it…well he didn't know what he'd do.

Ron finally turned his attention on his best friend, studying him for a moment while he was preoccupied. When he'd left the relative safety of the bathroom for the dorm rooms, he'd been petrified of what Harry might say, of what he might declare in return. Now as he gazed at his best friend, his earlier fears vanished. Harry was like a brother to him and if he liked other guys then that was okay with him. As long as they remained best buds then what did it matter _ who_ Harry snogged…uhh…as long as it wasn't him.

"Okay, well I'm going down to the hall to nab some breakfast off Dean then…I'm really going this time…" 

Ron laughed. It was just like Seamus to push the envelope. Ever since summer vacation when one of his muggle aunts had been killed by a group of roving Death eaters, he'd been overly protective of every one of his friends, especially Harry, shadowing him wherever he went. 

Harry swung around to stare at Ron, he grinned at the redhead, taking in his flushed skin and partially naked body. 

Ron gulped at the heated look his friend was giving him. Leaping off the bed, he began to rummage through his wardrobe for something half decent to wear. He was hyper aware of where Harry was at all times. Fumbling through dozens of lovingly knitted, yet haphazardly designed jumpers, he grabbed the first one as he felt Harry's presence close in on him. Dragging the fluffy monster over his head, Ron hoped like hell he wasn't going to come any closer. 

"Ron…?"

Oh shite, here it comes, the talk. He's not ready for 'the Talk'. He can't have the talk; he has no words, nothing to say. Ron's mouth went shockingly dry and he felt a coughing fit approaching. 

"Ron. Are you okay?"

Oh no, he's touching me. Get your hands off me; get them off, now! Ron squeezed his eyes closed and breathed deep. He didn't covet the warmth of that hand lying gently across his shoulder. He was panicking and he knew it. This was Harry. He had nothing to fear from him, yet still he was flustered and he twisted around a little too sharply at the intrusion on his personal space. 

Harry reeled backwards, his hand slipping from Ron's shoulder. That was a good thing, right? He was free of those fingers imprinting their ownership on his skin, but then he reached out and snatched that hand back, only because Harry would have fallen. It would have been all his doing, because of this pitiful obsession and he really had to learn how to breathe again.

So now Harry was upright and in no fear of plummeting to the floor, yet in spite of all that, he was still managing to hold his hand. Correction, his fingers were now threaded with Harry's and his thumb was rubbing delicate circles on the back of Ron's hand. How did that happen? A slight tremor ran down his spine at the pleasant tingle zeroing in on places he didn't wish to think about.

Ron, eyes wide, began to cough violently, twisting his head to the side and wrenching his hand out of Harry's custody. Placing the hand over his mouth, he continued to splutter noisily while his best friend took a step back and waited for him to recover. 

Ceasing his coughing fit, Ron returned to his earlier location, perched on the edge of his messy bed. Slowly he tilted his head back, peeking warily at Harry through a curtain of damp hair that hung provocatively over his eyes. 

Harry was grinning at him, sliding a fraction closer as Ron wiped both hands on the towel still wrapped around his hips. He combed a hand through his hair, pushing it back off his face as each luscious strand slipped through his fingers. He glanced nervously up at his best friend. If Harry wasn't certain Ron was one hundred percent straight, he'd swear that Ron was flirting with him. The vibrant red hue of his hair had drawn Harry like a beacon to the boy's side that first day at Hogwarts. For him the lure of those wicked flames had never ceased, each dazzling lock haunted his dreams and blinded him from pursuing another. 

Ron caught himself mid-flick as he spotted Harry watching him, a distinctly wistful smile on his face. Instantly, his hands fell to his lap. Ron gaped in ever-increasing fascination, part horror, as Harry's eyes followed the movement. He blushed to the tips of his ears at the part of his anatomy Harry had chosen to settle upon. Just the thought lead to those enticing images replaying in his head; as a result, he glanced down merely to be certain he wasn't embarrassing himself unbearably.

Ron practically screamed at what he caught sight of… not an erection, although that would have been really bad. No, he was wearing the one jumper he loathed the most, the canary yellow one, the hideous fluffy monstrosity, a jumper so odious that he began to scratch in earnest, at even a glance of its vileness hanging innocently in his wardrobe. 

It was the one colour that clashed violently with his skin and most horrendously with his copper hair. He had no idea what his mother had been thinking when she knitted it for him as a Christmas present the previous year. He couldn't discreetly throw it away as he didn't want to hurt her, but there was no way after that vacation that he was going to wear that thing ever again. 

George and Fred had teased him mercilessly that Christmas, referring to him as 'Ronina' for the entire week and placing wreaths of daisies over his head while he slept. That unfortunately had only been the beginning as they stuffed his sock draw with feminine hygiene products, dyed his underpants hot pink and shaved his pubic hair into a heart. Since then he would freak if he even caught a glimpse of yellow, the shame and humiliation as he imagined pink plastic razors chasing him down the Hogwarts hallways. 

"I _was_ trying to tell you," Harry stated. He couldn't help the smirk that curled his lips. Ron was sitting slack jawed and hyperventilating, staring up at him in obvious distress. 

Ron blinked, snapping out of the daze that had rendered him mute. Leaping off the bed, Ron's hands flew to the yellow wool, clawing at it desperately before yanking it over his head in disgust. Prior to kicking it under his bed, he fisted it into a tight ball, resisting the urge to tear it too shreds. 

Harry bit his tongue sharply as not to laugh out loud at Ron's impromptu striptease. How could he not adore him? How could anyone not fall instantly for his effortless charm?

Ron's back was turned from Harry as he glared murderously at the deep shadows under his bed. In that murkiness laid the jumper from hell. As Ron stood there planning the demise of said jumper, the towel slowly unravelled from around his body and pooled at his feet.

Harry gasped in awe; a 'Cheshire Cat' grin spreading over his face… someone out there truly liked him. 

"Oh god!" Ron yelped, snapping it off the floor and trying to cover himself, but failing miserably. Had the towel shrunk? Because no matter which way he arranged it, somehow the material fell short of concealing him from prying eyes. Oh and Harry had seen an eyeful, he was literally cemented to the spot, a glazed expression on his face. He'd just had Ron's naked arse before him, inches and he could have reached out for it, shaped his palm over the sweet curve of pale skin… 

Instead Harry held himself in check and tried not to drool on his robes.

Ron clutched the two ends of the towel together the best he could in one hand, while the other grabbed a pair of jeans and a less offensive jumper from his wardrobe. Leaping onto the mattress, he quickly secured the curtains around his bed.

Harry gaped at a flash of thigh, before the whole bed was swallowed up by acres of burgundy velvet. Damn.

..................................................................................................................................................

A short time later, Ron tore back the curtains and pushed himself off the mattress. He was more than ready to get out of the Gryffindor common room, as long as he could find his shoes. Crouching on the floor he spotted his sneakers tucked under the foot of his bed. Snatching them up with one hand, he used the other hand to blindly reach for one of the bedposts to pull him upright, but not before he caught a glimpse of yellow and shuddered. Fingers lost their grip as his hands became clammy. He slipped, collapsed on the floor hitting his chin and biting his lip in the process. Ron cursed, groaning at his rotten luck. 

Harry rushed forward from his bed, wrapping his arms around Ron's chest from behind and lifting him onto the edge of the bed.

"Thanks…" Ron whispered in pain. His jaw numb from the impact, blood was trickling over his bottom lip as he blushed up at his friend.

Harry nodded. Reluctantly he let the redhead go, stepping back so as not to be tempted to fuss over his injuries and really freak Ron out. 

Ron patted his chin awkwardly, making sure it was intact and also to try and stop the awful hollow ringing in his bones. What was with him? He was turning into Neville. Overnight Ron Weasley had turned into a complete klutz and he blamed Malfoy, he wasn't sure how, but he was certain it was his fault. 

Draco had the uncanny ability to make him feel that much better about himself. Thinking how he would deliver that nasty git to a cell at Azkaban one day usually did the trick. Maybe this was the year he would at least kick Malfoy's arse.

Finished tying his laces he stood up and addressed Harry with a slightly pleading grin, "I'm starved; let's see if we can wheedle some breakfast from Dobby. Surely they can't have of cleared up all those leftovers this quickly"

Harry grinned back "I could eat something." 

Ron groaned, but not at what Harry thought was a really crude joke on his behalf and he should really learn to keep his smutty thoughts to himself only. No, Ron had just remembered he had spoken about Malfoy and arse in the same sentence. He was bloody doomed he was.

"Sorry," Harry fidgeted with his glasses.

Ron twisted around. "Why?" He frowned at the nervous look on his friends face. Ron had been hunting for his missing robes. 

Harry pointed to his discarded robes strewn on top of the wardrobe. He wanted to apologise for everything, but was struggling on where to start. 

Ron turned back to where Harry had indicated, oblivious to the turmoil his friend was going through. "Yes," he whooped. "Ta mate," flashing Harry a grin before bounding over to where his crumpled robes were laying, shoved into some corner as usual. Giving them a quick shake he shrugged into them.

Harry came closer, holding out a handkerchief to Ron. At the blank expression he received he added, "You're still bleeding."

"Oh… thanks."

"Welcome."

Ron laughed. "Just promise me one thing?"

Harry playfully bumped into his shoulder, which Ron of course returned. They were both giggling now. 

"Promise you what exactly?"

Ron threw a glare at his bed before answering Harry. 

"Promise me we'll find a way to burn that ruddy jumper without my mother finding out about it." 

Harry laughed, nodding his solemn vow. Ron opened the door a crack, just to check Seamus wasn't loitering in the stairwell ready to pounce. Spotting no one, he moved away from the door to let Harry exit first. 

From out of the dark stairway stepped a furious Marcus Kelgarr, his right fist clenched ready to strike. 


	8. Chapter Eight

Part Eight

Harry had no time to duck as the first blow struck him across the cheek. He sucked in his breath as Marcus came at him again before he had a chance to blink, let alone draw his wand. It was Ron that came to his rescue, taking a punch to the stomach for his trouble. 

Ron hissed in pain, bending over to protect his body from further assault. Marcus seemed to lose his drive as he realised he'd struck Ron, since he never meant to touch him in such a harsh manner. Marcus' quarrel was with Harry solely. The gorgeous redhead had come to Harry's defence, pushed his friend out of harms way and taken the blow himself. 

It infuriated Marcus because he knew if it ever came down to that, Ron clearly would lay down his life for Harry. The idea that some muggle raised boy could inspire such blind devotion in his friends angered him as much as it impressed him. If only he had that type of loyalty from Ron; he would give him anything he desired. 

He'd never genuinely had a friend, someone that wanted to be around him exclusively, although that was not the true nature of the relationship he sort from Ron. No, he knew he wanted much more than simple friendship from the moment he'd spotted that luscious red hair among the flock.

Marcus had never instilled anything but a tentative control over his followers and only because they feared his wrath should they have dared to displease him. What he truly desired was Ron's love but he wasn't stupid; he knew that was next to impossible. Even with the odds stacked against him he was not willing to give up without a war. 

As Marcus felt the tip of a wand graze his neck in warning, he berated himself for letting his mind wander and Harry get the upper hand. 

Stepping back, he glared dangerously at his competition and was a little surprised to see the answering challenge in Harry's eyes. However, his grin turned feral as he became aware of the slightest tremor in the wand pointed directly at his chest. Harry was afraid and his fear was like a powerful drug in Marcus' system.

"Another day… Potter" he mouthed, his eyes flickering over Harry's body before he disappeared. 

Harry remained thunderstruck, long after Marcus had retreated to the shadows and out of Gryffindor tower. He jumped when Ron placed a hand on his shoulder. Breathing hard, he stuttered out an apology for being so on edge. 

"Harry, what happened? What did he do to you?" Ron frowned, an arm still wrapped protectively over his belly.

Harry grimaced; stroking his fingers over his cheekbone at what he expected would be decent bruise later in the day. "Nothing…well except this shiner" he laughed half-heartedly.

Ron winced as he sympathised with the throbbing pain Harry must be feeling about now. "What was that about anyway?" He blurted out, annoyed that Marcus had taken off before he could have a go at him for attacking them.

Harry threw Ron a look, complete with arched eyebrow and pursed lips. "Guess?"

Ron coughed, a blush crawling up his neck. He quickly looked away, changing the subject, "Right…ahh, so ready to battle the house-elves for some late breakfast?"

Harry rolled his eyes. Ron wasn't going to be able to ignore 'the Talk' forever, but he let it go this time. His stomach had just growled savagely at the mere mention of food and he was in no condition for another fight today.

"Let's go." 

Ron grinned, purposely forgetting about the conversation that had been evaded for the time being. Oh, he was very happy to live in ignorant bliss awhile longer. 

"Alright then, I'm half starved. I can only hope Seamus didn't get there before us and eat everything. He's a bloody machine when it comes to good food." Ron muttered to himself.

Harry followed, an amused grin playing at the corners of his mouth. He had such affection for his best friend. If Ron only knew what he was thinking about right now. Harry shook his head, so not the right moment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Closing his eyes, Harry rested for second as he waited for Ron to finally catch up. The redhead was dawdling along behind him, cheerfully nibbling on a Chocolate frog he had wheedled out of Neville. The poor boy didn't stand a chance when Ron practically tackled him in the common room after Marcus' attack. Neville's eyes had practically bugged out of their sockets as Ron threw himself at his feet and shamelessly begged him for a chocolaty treat.

If it had been him in Neville's place, he would have made Ron bark, roll over and a _ whole_ lot more before giving up any chocolate to that greedy sod. He didn't want to be reminded of how much he'd bitten his lip to stop himself from going through with some of the more pleasurable thoughts flickering through his mind in brilliant techno-colour.

Harry glanced back to be sure Ron was indeed following him and hadn't wandered off down a different corridor. He grinned as he caught sight of his friend gazing up at a painting of some pretty girl with blonde flowing locks and a billowing dress that occasionally blew up over her head. Harry shook his head at the slightly glazed look on Ron's face and wondered for the umpteenth time why he bothered pursuing someone who was so obviously fixated on the opposite sex.

Harry's mouth was suddenly dry as Ron had the audacity to stick out that tempting pink tongue and lick the entire stick of chocolate that slowly melted in his tight fist. He whimpered helplessly and turned away from that haunting sight, marching straight for the kitchens. Ron could bloody well catch up. He was not waiting for him to stop ogling that simpering bitch and wake up to what was really on offer. Well, not at this precise moment anyway.

He was still silently fuming as he shoved at the double doors of the main kitchen. Unfortunately, there was someone who had chosen just that instant to leave the very room Harry wanted so desperately to enter. Not even thinking, Harry began to struggle with the obstruction, placing his entire body weight against the gleaming white doors and thrusting his backside into the unrelenting wood. Growling, he stepped back and ran at the door. His shoulder connected with the surface and without warning it swung easily inwards. The momentum sent him skidding over the tile floor, arms flailing, legs not obeying his commands as he crashed into a marble topped preparation table. Diced vegetables rained down on his head as he collapsed bonelessly to the floor. Harry was unconscious and Draco Malfoy was quietly standing over yet another member of the Gryffindor trio. 

It really wasn't his week. 

Just then Ron hurtled through the double doors. Instantly, he caught sight of Harry's crumpled form splayed across the tiles. Seconds later his eyes connected with Draco's and they narrowed dangerously. 

Before Draco could even reach for his wand, Ron had forced Draco into the corner, while using one arm he held the blonde firmly in place. The backs of Draco's legs pressed achingly into what he guessed was some kind of rubbish bin tucked against the only bare wall in the entire room. 

"What did you do to him Malfoy?" Ron seethed through clenched teeth. 

For a second Draco forgot that he was supposed to be stone and the tiniest flicker of fear ghosted across his face. He gulped at the proximity of his enemy and it took him more than a few seconds before the mask of disdain could be successfully administered. It was all a perfect lie for he still felt the fear crawl disgustingly over his skin, especially as Ron inched closer and the weight of his body drove him further into the wall behind him.

"I never touched your precious Potter. It was him that threw himself like a maniac at the door and ended up cracking his head on the table."

Ron wasn't convinced and if Draco had been thinking, he never would have opened his big mouth. But, of course, when confronted with a Weasley he had never learnt to keep well alone.

"It's a pity, really, that he still breathes. I kind of like him in this position. At least he would be good for something, even if it was as my doormat…," the blonde of course didn't get to say anything further as Ron had punched him viciously on the side of the mouth. With a mouth full of blood, he crumpled uselessly to the floor; the rubbish bin overturning and dribbling to his absolute horror the remainder of his untouched breakfast all over his immaculately pressed robes. 

Harry stirred and Malfoy was forgotten as Ron scrambled to his best friend's side. 

"Harry, you alright?" 

Harry scrunched up his face in pain as he tried in vain to sit upright. "No. Ron. I'd have to say I'm not alright." Harry managed to breathe through the agony throbbing in his brain as he attempted to right himself. 

Ron winced at the stupidity of his question as he struggled to help Harry, but not jostle him too much in the process. Harry grinned lopsidedly at Ron's bumbling attempt at helping him. Despite the pain that was making him nauseous, it always felt really good to have Ron nearby. He was a pervert to the end, even with blood oozing down his face. He was still thinking of how he'd dearly love to throw a leg over his best friend and snog him senseless. 

"Oh…blood," Harry murmured before fainting in Ron's lap. 

"Shit," Ron stared down at Harry's unconscious body. "Oh god, what do I do?"

Draco slid over to his side, wiping his soiled robes hastily with the corner of a clean tablecloth. "You really are hopeless aren't you?" 

Ron looked blankly at him, mouth gaping as he struggled to say… anything.

Draco scowled. "Don't answer that." Reaching into his robes, he withdrew his wand. Ron's eyes grew large with alarm. Unwittingly, he hugged Harry's comatose body to him, as if he could protect his friend from Draco's attack. 

"Are you insane, you'll only hurt him more if you grab him like that?" Draco shouted, prying Ron's death like grip from around Harry's back. "Weasley! Snap out of it! You're killing him." 

Draco abruptly slapped Ron sharply across the face. Ron shook his head as the haze disappeared from his mind. He blinked, his arms loosening from around his best friend's waist. Draco frowned at the confused redhead. Slowly he inched forward, gathering Harry in his arms. His eyes never leaving Ron as his fingers gently roamed over Harry's skull feeling for the telltale bumps that indicated a concussion.

Draco suddenly caught movement from the corner of his eye; the kitchen door was swinging to and fro. He could have sworn he saw no one in the room. Ron too had turned towards the door; they both looked back at each other but said nothing. 

Draco's thoughts returned to the person that he cradled gently in his arms. He grimaced as his fingers met with a sticky substance that could only mean blood. Then he felt it, the lump the size of a large snitch, above his right temple. It wasn't a good sign. 

"We have to get him to Madame Pomfrey right now"

"Yes, of course…lets go" Ron didn't argue. He had no idea why Malfoy was caring for Harry and he wasn't sure he wanted to know either. All he knew was that he had been squeezing Harry so tightly and Draco had saved him. He had been aware of how much he had been hurting Harry, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. Ron had felt like a puppet where someone else had control of his strings. 

He never, ever thought he'd say it but he was so glad Draco had been there to snap him out of whatever had come over him. He was scared, he'd nearly killed his best friend and it was an enemy that had rescued him in the end.

Ron watched silently as the Slytherin laid Harry's unconscious body on the cool tiles. He was ashamed that Draco had somehow seen some weakness in him, but was also grateful for his presence. Draco continued to throw concerned looks Ron's way as he levitated Harry's body and maneuvered him out the door and into the corridor. A sullen redhead followed along behind him, desperately trying to figure out just what had gone wrong. 


	9. Chapter Nine

Part Nine

Malfoy moved along the corridors with purpose, ignoring the curious looks of the other students as he passed by. His fingers wrapped around the wand with a confidence Ron doubted many of his peers could duplicate. Draco's manner was faultless as he effortlessly guided the unconscious Harry along the seemingly endless passageways, Ron tagged along behind in somewhat of a stupor. 

He'd switched off to the incessant whispering that seemed to be closing in around him. The closer they got to the hospital wing, the louder it became, the more Ron shrunk into the silent recesses of own world. In his head there was only stillness and peace, on the outside a whispering frenzy that drilled into his bones with its intensity. 

'Your fault if he dies Weasley...you are the guilty one... betrayed your best friend... only you... go hide... no, run... go on run Weasley...'

And he dearly wanted to do just that, instead he chose to trail after his bitter enemy without a word. Ron was drawn further inward trying to fathom why he would hurt his best friend, or should he say, why someone else would use him to harm Harry.

He was confused. Not knowing if he was to blame or if there was someone that hated him so much to frame him. Had he deep down, somehow, wanted this to happen? Was he subconsciously yearning for Harry's death?

No. Ron refused to believe it. Yet his memories betrayed that fact, the evidence taunted him with the brutal facts. He was holding Harry to him, Ron remembered that. He had been gripping on to him fiercely, cutting off his oxygen, smothering Harry, yet he hadn't stopped, even when Malfoy had been screaming at him.

Ron shook his head maddeningly. He had not wanted him dead. Could never want for such a thing, he had no reason too.

Okay, yes. They had fought in the past, but who hasn't? That did not mean... 

Never! Not ever had he wished his most trusted friend any actual harm. He loved Harry and no matter who tried to twist his mind into making him believe otherwise, he could never kill him. Damn them to hell for trying. To cut out ones own heart would have been more preferable. His soul was as loyal to Harry as the first day they met. No one used him as a convenient pawn against anyone, let alone his dearest friend. 

Inside his spirit raged and when he eventually exhausted all thought on the matter, Ron found that he was quite lost. He had apparently misplaced his bearings and in doing so was hopelessly adrift. 

Panicking, Ron sped up so as not to get left behind. Flying around the corner he came to an abrupt halt at the mirage before him. Malfoy was seemingly having a civil conversation with Dobby. Ron expected as he got nearer to the two that he'd find he was mistaken and that Malfoy was indeed threatening the house-elf in that smug manner that made you want to smack him in the head. But as he inched closer, their conversation became easier to eavesdrop on and that's when Ron realised it was quite the opposite. 

"...you know I couldn't possibly go back there," Malfoy whispered. 

Dobby nodded his head vigorously. "Yes, sir...Dobby knows it is very difficult sir, but you must be careful. It has been told to me... by the others at the manor, sir... that he will come for you, he will find a way..."

"I know Dobby...I knew once he found out, he would take me away from here." 

"What will you do, sir? If I can help, you are only to ask, Master Draco."

Ron watched in stunned fascination as Draco genuinely smiled at the oddly attired creature. Not a nasty smirk, but an honest expression that spoke volumes of his gratitude for such a gesture. Ron held his breath as Malfoy reached out and grasped the house-elves bony arm, giving it a quick squeeze before noticing that he had a rapt audience of one.

Draco quickly dropped Dobby's arm. Backing up, he scowled at the intrusion.

"About time you showed up Weasley. Shall we be going then?" Not waiting to see if Ron was following him, Draco marched off down the hallway with Harry at his side.

"But..."

Ron watched as Dobby fled in the opposite direction. He turned to see Draco about to vanish around the next corner. 

"Damn" he cursed, ditching the idea of interrogating Dobby on Draco's strange behaviour for another time. 

"Hey! Malfoy...!" Ron shouted, dodging a group of third year students who twittered nervously as he jogged past. Although he really needed to talk to Draco, it couldn't hurt to stop for just a moment. Ron turned and winked cheekily at the young girls. They giggled, blushing as they huddled together so obviously whispering about him. They practically swooned at the attention he was lavishing upon them; Ron couldn't help but blow an overly dramatic kiss in their direction before turning to catch up with Malfoy.

Ron was still grinning as he emerged around the corner to an infuriated Slytherin. Eyes flashed dangerously, lips drawn in a taut line, arms crossed severely over his chest, while his foot tapped incessantly with annoyance.

"You think this is funny...Weasley? Your best friend lays possibly dying and you're flirting!" Draco seethed at Ron's outrageous behaviour. He had no idea why it bothered him but turning back to see the redhead strutting for a bunch of Hufflepuff nobodies made him madder than hell. At least Ron had the foresight to look guilty about the whole thing. 

"I..."

"Yes, Weasley...?" Draco interrupted. Maybe he was wrong, Ron seemed like he was going to try and wheedle his way out this predicament after all.

Ron knew when he was cornered. Malfoy may be a lot of things, but in this case a liar was not one of them. For just one stupid moment he'd forgotten that his best friend was unconscious. He'd been easily distracted by some pretty girls in his path, turned his back on Harry for just a second, but that was all it took for him to turn into the lowest scum this side of Britain. Some kind of best friend he turned out to be. If Ron was brutally honest with himself he knew that he hadn't been thinking about Harry at all a few minutes ago. 

Draco watched with extreme discomfort as the colour, the sense of mischief that had touched Ron's complexion, vanish as quickly as it had appeared, only to be replaced with the sombre reminder that it was his fault that Harry lay immobile under his outstretched hand.

It should have made him feel darn good to have Weasley squished under the heel of his boot, but for some reason it did not. It wasn't a pleasant victory to have ones enemy effectively muzzled when he had done nothing to deserve such treatment. 

We all slip, even if only for the briefest of moments. For some of us the fall is much greater. 

Harry had been a target in that room, Weasley and himself the pawns. Someone else had control and whatever the game was, Draco knew that they had only just begun to play their hand. 

The uncomfortable silence was too much for Draco to endure, he was so used to them fighting, be it verbal or physical, but he was not so used to this unending quiet. All was most definitely not normal if they weren't at each other's throats.

"Alright then, so you have nothing useful to add so let's move on shall we?" It wasn't a question that Draco expected an answer from. The fact that he and Weasley were not hexing each other at fifty paces seemed to be drawing quite a crowd and that in itself was enough for him to want to get the hell out of there.

Ron fell into line with Draco, each on either side of Harry, they moved as one down the last flight of stairs with no further disruptions. 

"What's going on between you and Dobby?" Ron asked as they neared the hospital.

Draco turned to glare at the redhead, "I hope you are not suggesting...?"

Ron sighed, rolling his eyes. "Oh please, don't even try to wiggle out an answer Malfoy. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

Malfoy grinned smugly at Ron "I do indeed." He paused as if mulling over his next words. "It's a great pity then that we aren't confidants, so that I may share all my dastardly deeds with you, Weasel," the smile dropping from his face. "Instead since you are my archenemy, I'm sure you won't mind if I tell you politely to... butt out."

Ron turned away from the boy, he knew Malfoy would never actually tell him; still it had been worth a try. Draco ignored the involuntary growl that came from his companion. Instead, he used Harry's unconscious body to push through the hospital wings doors. Whatever might have been further said on the subject was swallowed up by the always- efficient Madam Pomfrey, who seized upon the three as they entered her domain.

Draco was told in no uncertain terms that he was to run along to Professor Dumbledore's office and inform him of Harry Potter's condition. "Smartly Mr Malfoy. This is of great urgency," she repeated testily after Draco failed to move as quickly as she would've liked. 

"So the great and noble Potter will live then?" Draco sneered at the still unmoving figure of Harry Potter now swathed in cotton sheets and tucked into the nearest bed. 

Ron snorted at the expression on Malfoy's face, only now did he recognize the falseness of his words. For it had been Draco that had taken him to the hospital and Draco that saved the boy he claimed to despise. 

Madam Pomfrey instead appeared rather peeved that a mere student would dare question her exceptional credentials in administering to the unwell.

"Mr Malfoy, I would appreciate if you did not hover over my patient so..."

Ron snickered. 

Draco made a point of ignoring him. Of course that was met with more laughs at his expense.

Madame Pomfrey continued as if nothing was going on "I 'am still waiting Mr Malfoy. Do I really have to send Mr Weasley in your stead?" 

Draco did indeed think about that for a moment, but then decided it was definitely time for him to leave anyhow.

"I'm going," he drawled. Arching one perfect eyebrow at Ron, as if to say 'you owe me now Weasley and I'll be back to collect'. He flicked distractedly at one lone strand of hair that clung defyingly to his cheek. Shooting Ron one last challenging glare, he turned and sauntered out of the room. 

Ron watched him go before his attention switched to Madame Pomfrey who was busily checking Harry's temperature with the back of her hand. Smiling to herself, she ignored him as she tottered back to her office to write up her case notes. 

Sighing heavily, Ron flopped down on the bed next to Harry's and stared at his friend's chest, mesmerised by the steady rise and fall, comforted in the knowledge that the school nurse had everything under control. 

So it was quite a surprise a short time later, to open his eyes and find that in fact, despite his worrying he had still managed to take a nap. He blinked, only to be aware that Harry was awake and grinning at him as he nibbled on some buttered toast. 

"You're finally conscious. I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to be coherent, you have been babbling on about, I don't know what for hours now..." Harry jabbered, brushing stray crumbs onto the floor with a flick of his wrist.

"Hours...?"

Harry nodded, fluffing the pillow behind his back before settling comfortably in the soft, warm folds.

"Are you okay Harry?" Ron asked in a small voice.

Harry tilted his head and frowned at the tone of his friend's voice.

"Yes, of course. Why wouldn't I be?" Harry asked, confused by such question. 

"You don't know?" Ron squeaked. He hadn't been prepared for Harry having no memory of what happened. 

"No! What's going on? I remember crashing through the door into the kitchen. Just thought I got knocked out and you levitated me here..." Harry frowned, immediately flustered. "There's something else isn't there...? I remember Malfoy was there, did he do..."

"No!" Ron blurted out. "I mean yes... he was there, but no, he didn't do anything to you, except, well, save you... from me"

"What?" Harry breathed; a stabbing pain on the side of his head was making it bloody difficult to concentrate on what Ron was saying. He must have heard wrong.

Ron could barely get the words out of his mouth. "I don't remember much, I think there was a spell. All I remember is squeezing you hard and you were struggling to breathe and Malfoy hit me to stop me from killing you."

Harry unwittingly shrank back from Ron's presence. He blinked furiously, his eyes huge as he tried to comprehend just what his best friend was trying to tell him. 

"What are you saying Ron? I don't understand." A thread of panic affecting the tone of Harry's voice. 

Ron ducked his head, his thumb desperately swiping away the tears that had already begun to fall.

"I don't know..." He wrung his hands, sobbing now; pleading for the fear he saw in his friends eyes to just disappear. Please.

A determined look fell over Harry's face and he immediately straightened his back against the headboard. "Tell me everything." His tone brooked no argument. 

Ron swallowed hard, rubbing his fists angrily into his eyes to obliterate the tears before looking Harry in the eye. 

"I ran into the kitchen when I heard the crash. You were on the floor with blood running down your face and Malfoy standing so suspiciously over you. I attacked him...and then you came too... that's when things get fuzzy."

Ron wiped his sweaty palms on his robes before hastily dragging a hand through his messy locks. "Malfoy, he slapped me and whatever, held me to you, made me hurt you...just wasn't there anymore. _He_ was there, gaping accusingly at me, the enemy, yours, and mine," his anger reaching a crescendo as he recounted every hellish moment. "It was Draco Malfoy that cared for you while I stood there uselessly. He brought you here, not me, it should've been me." Ron whispered, shrugging helplessly, his voice breaking to his utter disgust at his behaviour. "I did nothing, nothing at all but follow him here."

Harry was staring at the faint pattern of leaves that were impregnated into his blanket, as if somehow that could decode everything that Ron was telling him.

"Ron..." he finally ventured. 

"Oh god Harry. I don't know why I did it..." Ron keened; his head slumped forward against his chest. 

Harry broke at the absolute despair that shook his best friend's body so violently. He reached out toward him, wanting to touch. 

"Ron...? Please don't." 


	10. Chapter Ten

CHAPTER TEN  
  
Ron closed his eyes as Harry's fingers lightly touched his hair. He thanked Merlin that his friend had chosen to forgive him, for such gentle contact could only mean just that. He craved the contact Harry bestowed upon him. He so longed for the peace that came from such a caress. A part of him knew he didn't deserve such a friend.  
  
"Ron, Please..." Harry begged and Ron was compelled by that voice to lift his head, to stare with wonder at his best friend.  
  
"Thank you." He whispered. Harry stood before him, gazing down at him with gentle affection.  
  
"I know it wasn't you, you would never hurt me like that," Harry assured Ron because he knew his friend blamed himself.  
  
Harry drew his hand lightly down Ron's face, obliterating the tracks of his tears with a gentle swipe of his thumb. He only halted his exploration when his fingers curved possessively over Ron's cheek, his palm resting under his friend's chin.  
  
Ron brow furrowed, but was not prepared when Harry fell to his knees in front of him and in one graceful move had pressed his wet mouth to his, completely stealing Ron's breath away.  
  
The shock of Harry's mouth hungrily attacking him finally sunk in and motivated Ron into action. Gasping, he tore his lips from Harry's, eyes wild. Immediately, he got to his feet, swiping at the hands that reached out for him. Ron promptly shifted out of Harry's clutches, shrinking against the far wall his eyes bright with anger, humiliation. How could his best friend do this to him?  
  
Harry felt the bitterness of Ron's rejection and he hung his head with the shame of it. His arms stole around his own body, trying desperately to give himself false comfort in his misery.  
  
Ron wasn't mistaken; he had distinctly heard the whimper that issued from Harry's lips as he left him there on the floor. Ron pushed off from the wall violently and began to pace the length of the room, too upset to say anything. Harry had actually kissed him and the real shock wasn't the actual kiss, but the fact he hadn't been as disgusted as he imagined he would have been. What the hell did that mean? He was furious, confused and not at all sure he would ever be ready to explore that dilemma.  
  
A number of times Ron started to speak, his mouth would open but the words failed to come so he continued to march back and forth. Eventually, Harry lifted his head, smiling miserably at the redhead who had finally exhausted himself and was leaning heavily against one of the supporting columns, gazing out the window at nothing.  
  
"Ron, I'm sorry...I shouldn't have done that."  
  
Ron was briefly startled by the intrusion into his solitude, turning his head dreamily; his eyes met Harry's from across the room. Ron stared as if baffled to why he was standing over by the window.  
  
Harry's previous words suddenly filtered through the static and Ron shook his head. "No, its okay, really I..."  
  
A hesitant smile flickered across Harry's features and for the briefest of moments, new hope shone vividly. He rushed towards him.  
  
"No. No! I don't mean in that way, not like that..." Ron held up his hands to ward off his friend.  
  
The light died as Harry finally understood. He nodded to himself, standing so close, yet so very far from everything he desired.  
  
Ron died a little inside at the heartbreak he was forced to witness, despising himself for crushing all hope but having no choice in the matter. "I'm sorry for the way I handled that...before. Should have made myself clear from the beginning, I was just so relieved you had forgiven me, I wasn't thinking."  
  
Harry continued to fight the ridiculous tears threatening to spill forth as he nodded absently, the rejection twisting unbearably, the gash on the side of his head only amplifying the pain.  
  
Madam Pomfrey bustled in and Harry closed his eyes and mouthed 'thank you' to no one in particular. Anything to take away the hurt, the emptiness...  
  
She frowned at the fact that Potter was out of bed, when she was certain that only ten minutes a go she had told him in no uncertain terms was he too leave it.  
  
"I see that you are up and moving about unaided. This is not a wise decision Potter. I've explained to you the dangers. You've had quite the nasty fall and I must insist that you return to your bed immediately. Weasley is of course, very welcome to stay here with you while you recover." She smiled kindly at him while measuring out a dark viscous liquid into a bright blue glass.  
  
Bustling over to where Harry was standing, she placed the potion in his hands before turning to busily fluff his pillow and smooth out the wrinkles in his sheets. When Madam Pomfrey was quite finished tidying, she noticed Harry was still standing blankly in the very spot she'd left him.  
  
She tsked at the state he was in. "Come now, drink up. It will do wonders for the swelling in your head."  
  
Harry glanced at Ron for a minute, before succumbing to her mothering tone and doing exactly as she asked.  
  
As he expected, the potion was vile and it took a lot of coaxing on his throbbing brains behalf to get him to swallow the foul smelling tonic.  
  
"Severus just delivered it a moment ago; they had rather a difficult day scouring the forbidden forest for the ingredients."  
  
"They...?" Ron inquired, moving even further away from his friend. Just watching Harry try to swallow the potion that even he had caught a whiff of from across the room, made his stomach lurch in sympathy.  
  
"Why Mr. Malfoy of course, apparently he insisted in helping and got a severe rash from walking straight into vine bursting with knekker berries. I had warned Severus on that particular fact, that they were a menace in that part of the forest and he was well prepared, still very nasty business indeed." She shook her head, completely missing the horror in both boys' faces.  
  
Ron hadn't got past the bit where she recalled Malfoy insisting on helping Snape.  
  
Harry on hearing the same thing began to cough violently, spluttering a quarter of the potion on his pyjamas before both Madam Pomfrey and Ron made it to his side.  
  
The redhead instantly began to thump Harry sharply on the back, for that's how he'd seen some muggle actor perform on the 'telly thingy' over the summer.  
  
"That will be quite enough of that," Pomfrey scowled at Ron, nudging him firmly out of her way. With her attention solely on her patient, she shuffled a reluctant Harry towards the bed. "Now you must sit down, you need to relax and take deep cleansing breaths..."  
  
Harry struggled to regain his breath, swallowing large gulps of air in his panic.  
  
"That's the way lad, let the potion do its job," she soothed.  
  
Ron was hovering over Pomfrey's shoulder feeling useless as was commonplace in Harry's presence. Harry threw him a desperate look and he nearly shoved Madam Pomfrey out of the way to get to him.  
  
"You don't understand Madam Pomfrey; if Malfoy made that potion then he has definitely poisoned it. He hates Harry; the wanker would do anything to get in his Daddy's good graces...even kill." Ron pleaded for her to understand as he sat beside his friend, patting and massaging circles into Harry's trembling back.  
  
Madam Pomfrey snorted, waving her hand at such utter nonsense. "Oh pish posh, a student, even a Slytherin one would never do such a thing."  
  
"No, listen you have to help him..." Ron grabbed for her hand, but she stepped out of his reach and hissed.  
  
"No, you listen to me Mr. Weasley. No student or Professor for that matter will ever harm Potter on my watch. Do you understand?"  
  
Ron swallowed thickly, nodding his head reluctantly. Madam Pomfrey glared at him, "The inter-house rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor is getting completely out of hand. You are 6th years, young adults and should know better" she barked.  
  
"But..." Ron began.  
  
Harry discreetly wiped his tongue on the sleeve of his pyjama top as he listened to Ron and Pomfrey argue. The taste in his mouth was disgusting but besides that little hiccup, he actually felt rather fantastic, better actually, than he had in...well, ever. He grinned sideways at Ron taking in his proximity and the freckled hand that hovered brilliantly over his flushed skin. 'The boy wasn't even looking at him, such a pity' and he couldn't help but pout at the lack of attention in general.  
  
Ron's face was like thunder as Pomfrey continued to drone on and on. What was it about Hogwarts staff that expected all students just too instantly behave and co exist with each other when there were some who would always feel they were above the rest and act accordingly? Slytherin's for example, were evil; it was a known documented fact for Merlin's sake. The Malfoy family were particularly contemptible, especially the blonde bit of tail that paraded around the school grounds like he owned it and everyone. Draco was a mini version of his 'dear old Dad' and everyone knew what a charmer Lucius was.  
  
Harry considered telling his best mate that he wasn't dying and that in fact he was very alright, but he was struck by the particularly enchanting way the light from the nearest window cast a gorgeous copper halo over Ron's head and seemed to render him speechless in the process.  
  
It was Ron, at the lack of groaning, coughing and other such grossness... that first noticed the change in Harry.  
  
"Har...?" More disturbed by the twinkling in his friends eyes then he had been by the emotional pain and vomiting of a moment a go. "Are you, you alright?" he added lamely.  
  
Harry gave him a lopsided grin. "Hi Ron, how are you my dearest, most precious comrade? I feel so fine right now, I could literally float around the room it's so good. No telling in this mood what I might do." He winked, pinching his redheaded buddy on the thigh.  
  
Ron yelped at the less then subtle touch, stumbling over his own two feet just to get off the bed.  
  
He chanced a sidelong look at Madam Pomfrey, just to see if she had possibly missed the heavy suggestion in Harry's words. He hoped so.  
  
She clapped her hands together in delight, hugging Harry quickly before releasing him. "Well this is splendid, more than I hoped for and so soon."  
  
Ron just gaped.  
  
Harry giggled in near hysterics, finding it ever so funny to pick delicately at the fluff on his pyjama top. Trapping the specks between thumb and forefinger, he would lift them up to his face before gently blowing on them. Watching with giddy awe as they spun, twirling in the patch of sunlight that streaked across the room, before he lost track of their progress and they disappeared forever.  
  
Madame Pomfrey ignored them both as she jotted down notes in her 'case history' journal. It never hurt to keep a diary on any of the more unusual illnesses that befell her charges. One day such a thorough record may become invaluable in war with 'he who shall not be named' or perhaps on the bestseller list at 'Flourish and Blott's'.  
  
Closing her book with a snap, she was immediately drawn to Ron's silent manner.  
  
"Whatever is the matter with you Weasley? You appear quite unwell. Are you not relieved that Potter has made it unscathed and that the potion you were so adamant was poisonous, could not have worked more successfully?"  
  
Madam Pomfrey let the smallest grin creep over her features at the confused look on Ron's face. His eyes darted from the school nurse to Harry and back again.  
  
"His behaviour is nothing but a side-effect. The potion has a euphoric quality that calms the patient while healing. After a good night's rest he will be back to normal."  
  
Ron seemed to relax at her words. "You are sure of this...?"  
  
"Yes, Weasley," she snapped, annoyed that he would doubt her diagnosis. Turning her back on the instant relief that flooded through Ron, she gently manoeuvred Harry back under the covers, patting him maternally on the cheek before leaving Ron alone with her excitable patient.  
  
Ron Weasley slumped once more onto the bed next to his friend. Harry tracked his every move although his eyelids had already begun to droop. Ron was amused at Harry's attempt to fight the sleeping spell that was embedded in the potion, but the lure was too strong and he watched, relieved when Harry's lids finally closed for the last time, gentle healing slumber the victor.  
  
It was awhile before Ron could take his eyes from Harry's peaceful expression and then it was only to shiver at the sudden chill that had come over him. Pulling at the unravelling sleeve of his jumper, he struggled to cover his bare wrists from the cold that pressed insistently at him. Ron eventually knelt down beside his best friend, burying his fingers into the soft warm covers of Harry's bed.  
  
A wistful look fell over his face as he continued to watch over Harry. So at peace did his friend appear to be. Those lines that had been full of pain and loathing had vanished under the spell of sleep and he wished right then and there that Harry would wake with no knowledge of what had been said. No memory of the rejection, the heartache that he had caused...  
  
But then he had no right to change the past just because he had found it bloody horrible to destroy his friendship with Harry. Eventually he would have to know and then that torture of destroying a six year relationship with someone he considered family would start all over again.  
  
Ron's hand hovered over Harry's face, just shy of a caress. He could feel each tiny wisp of breath that ghosted across his fingers and he silently mourned the loss.  
  
"I'm so desperately sorry Harry..." he whispered, his breath disturbing the messy jet- black fringe that hid a tiny jagged scar from view. Harry stirred, mumbling in his sleep before rolling over onto his side and away from Ron.  
  
"What exactly are you sorry for?"  
  
Ron rubbed at his eyes, turning abruptly at the invasion.  
  
............................................................................ .............................................................. 


	11. Chapter Eleven

I wanted to thank everyone who read and have enjoyed so far. I know I've responded to everyone personally about feedback except "Ash" who didn't leave an email address. Thank you hon for your feedback, I adore and crave it and I'm pleased you like my Marcus. I couldn't leave Harry out and although he wasn't supposed to be in 'lurve' with Ron it happened anyway...hope you continue to read. Okay enough chatter...on with the chapter. Jux  
  
CHAPTER ELEVEN  
  
Hermione stood at the foot of the very bed Ron had been sitting on only a moment ago. Her eyes flickered over the entire hospital wing before returning to him once more.  
  
Ron took in the appearance of his other best friend, noticing how her left hand smoothed over her curly tresses, flicking them over her shoulder in annoyance when they refused to remain straight. Finally she came forward to stand beside him.  
  
Her eyes slid from his, to Harry tucked up in bed and snoring softly, then back again.  
  
"What happened?" she whispered harshly.  
  
Ron scowled at her, holding his index finger to his lips. "Shhhh!!!"  
  
Hermione's head snapped back; she scowled at him, her eyebrows knitted. Ron almost laughed out loud, he felt like doing just that, but instead he smirked at the righteous indignation written all over her face.  
  
"I will not be shh-ed, not by you, nor anyone. Everyone is talking about your little stroll around the corridors with Malfoy... of all people. Apparently you were whispering amongst yourselves while casually levitating an unconscious Harry between you." her voice rising steadily with every word that spat out between her lips.  
  
Ron attempted to shush her again, and then thought better of it. "You'll wake Harry and he's already had a hellish day. Please, if you stop growling at me for a second, then I can explain."  
  
Hermione raised her chin, one hand instantly assumed its usual position on her hip. "Okay then, enlighten me but you have no idea what they're saying about you two." she muttered.  
  
Ron swallowed thickly "Okay, Harry and I were headed to the kitchens hoping to bribe some breakfast out of the house-elves. He got there ahead of me and when I arrived Malfoy was standing over him and he was bleeding all over the floor. Well, one thing led to another-I shoved Malfoy up against the wall-he whipped out his wand while I was hugging Harry to me thinking he was getting ready to attack..." Ron halted to see how she was taking this news.  
  
"What happened next?" she encouraged him to continue.  
  
"Honestly, I don't know. I do know that I was strangling Harry and Malfoy was screaming at me to stop, but I couldn't let him go, I had no will of my own. He then slapped me. It broke whatever spell that had been cast. Well... I hope it was a spell and not a sign that I'm losing my mind."  
  
Hermione was frowning; her anger had changed to confusion and it was plain that she was anxiously trying to understand all she'd been told. "You think a spell was involved, that someone made you kill Harry? Why would you think that?"  
  
Ron was taken back "Do you actually think I'd try and kill my best friend?"  
  
Hermione huffed. "Of course not. It's just you don't exactly have any proof here. A student, let alone a teacher would have to be pretty daft to try something like that in Dumbledore's presence. Don't you think?"  
  
"Maybe?" Ron shrugged, his shoulders sagging. Maybe he was going insane. Only a moment ago he'd been so sure it was some type of wizardry that had made him hurt Harry. How could it have been anything else? But Hermione could be right; she was wickedly smart in these matters. Why would someone risk killing Harry inside Hogwarts?  
  
Turning to face him, Hermione suddenly gripped his arm tightly. "Then again, who was conveniently there to save Harry?"  
  
"Malfoy," Ron uttered, his mouth gaping. Why hadn't he thought of this before?  
  
"Exactly," She smiled. "And who does he like to taunt above all others?"  
  
"Me." He answered breathlessly. Damn it! He should have seen this from the beginning. He'd never even thought to question Malfoy's innocence in the whole debacle. Of course it was Malfoy. He hated Harry. Why on earth would he even attempt to save him now? Simple...he never would.  
  
Hermione sighed. Instead of moving around to the other side of the bed, she stayed firmly beside Ron only leaning forward so that she smiled affectionately down at Harry, who was peacefully sleeping, the warm blankets tucked snuggly under his chin. She could just make out the dusky curve of eyelashes as they rested against his cheek.  
******************************************  
  
Even after six years of knowing Hermione Granger it was virtually impossible for him to say no to her. She has this uncanny ability to ferret out his much-suppressed need to 'please' and use it masterfully against him.  
  
"Ron, if you just spent two minutes remembering the uses for whatever ingredient Professor Snape intends to use in his next class, then I could spend more time helping you revise spells and less time scrubbing at the potion stains on my robes. Together you and Neville spell disaster."  
  
It was because of one of those not so subtle hints that he found himself in the library for Merlin's sake. And on the weekend to boot! All he wanted to do was find Malfoy and throttle the bastard.  
  
"Have you by any chance finished your Transfiguration assignment due on Tuesday?"  
  
"No, I thought I'd tackle it in free period after lunch tomorrow."  
  
"It's Sunday, you only have two days, not even that." Hermione had gasped when he couldn't meet her eyes. "You haven't even started it, have you?"  
  
Ron had looked sheepish, avoiding her glare so he wouldn't have to respond to her. Not that he had to say a thing; his continued silence said it all.  
  
"Oh Ron, how will you be able to teach me that chess move so that I can finally shatter that insufferable prick Zabini's blasted winning streak?" Her eyes had slightly misted and her lips trembled minutely. "Professor McGonagall will seize more points from Gryffindor if you don't complete that project. Beside that, you'll get yourself detention. You know very well that she's cracking down on students who repeatedly slack off." Hermione had raised her eyebrows at him then, as if to say 'Like you for instance'.  
  
So, now Ron was jammed into the furthest, rankest corner of the library he could find. It's not like he didn't have his choice of seating, he was definitely alone besides the hovering presence of Madam Pince, who had already snuck up on him once and nearly had him peeing in his pants when her bony fingers had nearly crushed his shoulder. This woman was especially creepy. Her eagle eyes following you around the room; it brought shivers down your spine just to have her unblinking attention on you.  
  
Of course that was his main reason for settling himself into the moldiest spot, knowing that not even she would dare venture into the 'stacks that time forgot' just to check and see if he wasn't damaging her precious books. Every page on those shelves threatened to have his eyes practically bugging out of his head with the force of his sneezes. Thank Merlin, a quick 'blocking charm' put an end to that slight hitch to remain hidden.  
  
The reason he had let himself be chased away from the infirmary was not so much Hermione's words but just the need to get the hell out of that cloying environment. Although he wasn't positive sitting surrounded by copious amounts of mould was any better for his health, it was away from Harry and right now he needed that time alone.  
  
He'd very possibly destroyed his relationship with his best mate and Malfoy was at least partially responsible for that. Would the blonde actually stoop to using him to kill Harry? Although, Hermione's words had made sense and it was true he had been the only other person in the room. Still, it didn't seem like Malfoy. The git was too darn proud to use someone else to crush Harry. Ron was sure if it ever came down to that, Draco Malfoy would gleefully sign up to end Harry Potter's life.  
  
Ron sat, with the legs of his chair tilted precariously on one angle, his feet hooked under the desk in front of him for support. The required reading 'How to Master those Most Difficult Transformations' was spread open at some random page, while he tried determinedly to remain focused on the words that kept blurring before him.  
  
It was only when he was just beginning to doze off for the umpteenth time that he heard a tiny squeak very close to his position. Instantly, Ron believed he'd been found by the ever diligent Madam Pince. He scrambled out of his chair forgetting he was balanced on two chair legs and nearly ended up sprawled on his arse on the stone floor. If it hadn't been for his Quidditch trained lightening reflexes, he would have all but alerted his position in seconds, probably tossed out for his impertinence as well.  
  
Instead, his right hand had shot out and seized the corner of the table till he could rectify the situation and pull himself upright. The chair connected with the floor without a sound and it was only then that Ron noticed there were no eyes glaring at him with open contempt. In fact there was no one there at all.  
  
Ron winced and leaned the same hand he had used to stop himself from falling onto the desk. Ignoring the dull thud of pain, he pushed the chair back so that he could further investigate the sound that had disturbed him only a moment ago.  
  
Massaging his sprained wrist with the fingers of his other hand, he edged up the first aisle, constantly tuned to any stray noises. A chill sunk into his bones as he crept closer to the mouth of the long corridor, sure he did not want to know what lay in wait for him there.  
  
Before he even reached the end, he heard a soft curse to his left. Freezing, he stared at the row of brittle books before him; he realized the sound had come from the next aisle. Slowly turning to face the haphazardly stocked shelf, he listened carefully and it was when he strained to hear who or what was on the other side, that he distinctly heard the soft flutter of pages being turned.  
  
Intrigued, Ron squatted down onto the floor and tried to peer through the tops of the books, but he could see nothing. He heard a soft giggle and was more determined then ever to see who else had taken shelter amongst the same moldy books as he. Closing his eyes to better train his ears to pinpoint his companion's position, he finally grinned when he zeroed in on another stifled giggle.  
  
Shuffling soundlessly on his knees back towards the desk again, he halted in his journey, rocking back on his heels when he zeroed in on the sound of more pages being turned. Holding his breath he nearly choked when he forgot his nose was still under the 'blocking charm'. Sucking in a rush of air he froze when it seemed as if the person on the other side had heard him too.  
  
Ron cursed silently in his head at his stupidity, but was relieved when after what seemed like an endless loop of time; the soft flicker of pages being turned began again.  
  
Taking care not to lean his weight on the frame, lest it creak under his weight and give him away, he craned his neck forward to once again peer through the tops of the books to the aisle on the other side.  
  
At first he could see nothing and his stomach plummeted in disappointment but then he caught the slightest movement. Inclining to the right and scrunching down to the lowest row of books, Ron squinted through a tiny gap. His eyes widened comically.  
  
There on the other side, legs drawn up towards his stomach, a book balanced on his bent knees was the Slytherin prince: Draco Malfoy.  
  
Ron almost growled verbally, annoyed that he'd spent the last few minutes crawling on a floor that was riddled with potentially deadly spores, just so that he could spy on Malfoy of all people.  
  
Ron entertained the perfect fantasy where he pushed the shelf over, killing Malfoy in the process and ridding the world of yet another Death Eater. As much as that idea brought a smile to his lips, he could never actually kill him without provocation. Even then he'd rather see Draco Malfoy in Azkaban for the rest of his life.  
  
His ears pricked when he again heard a soft chuckle, complete with what sounded distinctly like the tearing of paper.  
  
Ron gently nudged at the book that was hindering his view of the blonde ferret. Stretching out on his stomach on the floor he could comfortably observe his prey without his knowledge.  
  
He watched as Malfoy carefully folded a torn page from a book he was reading, before slipping it into a pocket in his robes.  
  
What was he doing here? He'd hidden here to escape a nosey librarian and his thoughts, what was Malfoy's excuse?  
  
For days something had been up with the blonde. First, the strange compliments and then the conversation with Dobby that he'd caught snatches of before being found out...it all added up to somewhat of a puzzle. Then of course there was rescuing his nemesis. That part was still in doubt. Maybe he was reading too much into all this and he should just collect his things and go back to the common room.  
  
It was just as he'd made up his mind to leave that Ron noticed the title of the book Malfoy held in his hands. 'Pride and Prejudice', he wasn't certain but he was sure he'd seen Hermione with that very book over a year ago. A muggle romance novel if he remembered correctly, written nearly two centuries ago. 'Gods, it must have been a first edition.' The state of it was not good, but stranger then that Malfoy didn't seem to care that the pages were crumbling under his fingertips. He appeared to be hungrily devouring every word, eyes skimming across each page, totally engrossed and not at all disgusted by the flakes of moldy pages that littered his robes.  
  
Why was Malfoy reading a book written by a muggle for muggle's? Every member of his pureblood family loathed anything muggle related. What did Malfoy think he was going to gain by reading this book?  
  
Emotions like Ron had never known were possible, were flitting across the blondes face. He was awestruck just watching an entire range of feeling blossom across that pale complexion he had only known in its icy state.  
  
Beside Draco, piled in a messy heap lay other such similar books, 'Huckleberry Finn', 'Moby Dick', 'To Kill a Mockingbird' to name a few. Ron tried to make out more of the titles, but the writing was too worn he could only read a couple of the letters if he squinted at them with his head tilted to the side.  
  
"Ron, what are you doing?"  
  
"Shit." Ron gasped in alarm, jumping to his feet, to find Harry at the end of the aisle gaping at him incredulously.  
  
Merlin, where in the heck did he come from? When did Harry wake up, he thought the potion was supposed to last all-night and why was he here in particular? Ron couldn't even find the words to even begin to answer Harry back.  
  
A crash from the opposite aisle distracted Harry in what Ron presumed was Malfoy's tower of books collapsing in the blonde's bid to escape being detected.  
  
Harry whipped around the corner just in time to catch a swirl of black robes and that unmistakable platinum blonde head disappearing around the opposite corner.  
  
"Malfoy!" he raged, but the Slytherin was too quick as he escaped out the library entrance, not once looking back.  
  
Ron cursed under his breath as he collected his notebook and quill from the desk, Harry appeared around the corner, out of breath and furious.  
  
"What was he doing here?" he snapped at the redhead.  
  
"How the hell would I know?" Ron retorted, getting the tiniest bit peeved at Harry's attitude.  
  
"You were here, together?" Harry fumed, slamming his hand into a row of books to his right. A huge cloud of pulverized paper dust billowed up the aisle sending Harry into a violent coughing fit.  
  
Served him bloody well right, it wasn't often that his infamous Weasley temper was directed at his best friend, but right now he was absolutely livid.  
  
"Not that you have a say on who I can or cannot talk to...but for Merlin's sake, MALFOY?" he screamed at Harry, completely incensed. "If you must know I was spying on him until you walked in and started ranting like a loony." He growled, dangerously close to wanting to smack his best friend.  
  
"Oh really, why would you want to do that, why would anyone? Besides you were smiling sappily at him," he hissed back.  
  
"I did no such thing," his cheeks aflame. Despite the whole breaking Harry's heart a couple of hours ago, Ron wanted nothing more than to knock his teeth in at the sneer plastered across Harry's face. "The git is up to something. He's changed and I don't know about you but I want to know why."  
  
"Why? It's Malfoy?" he whined.  
  
"Because it is Malfoy and he is our enemy if you remember. He has continually taunted us from year one and suddenly he's acting weird, saving you for instance."  
  
"He complimented...you"  
  
"Whatever, I don't buy this switch in personality. Clearly he's up to something."  
  
Harry ignored everything Ron had just said. "You like him?" and the sadness was etched in every word.  
  
"No!!" Ron gritted his teeth before sighing exhaustedly. "Oh, forget it. I need to get some sleep and you're obviously not ready to listen." He pushed past a silent Harry, sidestepping an approaching Madam Pince who was coming to see what all the kafuffle was about.  
********************************************  
  
Draco sat curled up like a contented pussycat on the plush forest green of his bedspread, except he was anything but contented.  
  
One long tapered finger marked the sentence he had been rereading for the past ten minutes. It was useless, he couldn't focus and it was only steadily getting worse. The Transfiguration assignment was due in two days and he'd hardly made a dent in starting the blasted thing. He scoffed at his father sending him a howler when he heard through the grapevine that his son got a 'D' for incompletion.  
  
Draco became resigned to the fact that nothing more was going to get finished tonight as he slammed the book shut. Flopping onto his back, he glared at the ceiling. He couldn't focus, not when all he could think about was that Ron had possibly been watching him. For how long he had no idea...this was not good. He wasn't ready for everyone to know about him.  
  
The shock of what his mother had told him over the summer was only beginning to sink in. He had yet to come to grips with its destructive behaviour in his life, in everything he had ever been taught to believe.  
  
Suddenly, the door burst open, crashing against the wall, the sound reverberating around the small bedroom. A figure shrouded in shadow stood filling the doorway.  
  
Draco sat straight up in bed, his breath trapped in his throat as the seventh year Slytherin entered uninvited into his room. He tried not to tremble as those eyes slid languidly over his rigid body. With a flick of the older boy's wrist, the door was snapped closed behind him. He leaned casually against it, arms crossed; a deadly smirk that highlighted the piercing green of his eyes... met Draco's across the room. The colour reminded the blonde of only one person, as his visitor began to speak.  
  
"Why Draco, I heard the most delicious gossip about you from an aunt today. I've come to find out for myself if it's all true..." he drawled, pushing off from the door and closing in rapidly on the blonde who was desperately inching back against the headboard, nowhere to run as the shadow loomed menacingly over him.  
  
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	12. Chapter Twelve

Again I want to thank everyone who is reading and enjoying...I adore feedback *shameless hint*. "Sparkling Pippin" believe me hon I have no intention of finishing this fic anytime soon, I'm having way too much fun with it. LOL Thank you again *blush* for the compliments.  
  
Chapter Twelve  
  
Ron woke up with a start, stale breath rasped out of his abused throat. He'd spent the entire night plagued by nightmares that still clung to him feverishly. Even now as he watched the first trickle of sunlight filter into the room, he remembered but a portion of them. The phantom of a dream left him with mere fragments of the whole. He recalled being tied securely to a bed with vines that snaked around his arms and legs. A curtain of fine white strands fell over his face and prevented him from catching a glimpse of where he was. Voices, calling, beckoning him from all sides, Harry's had been one of the loudest, but what he'd been urgently shouting was now lost in his subconscious. What he remembered above everything else was the soft warm breath that, throughout it all, ceaselessly ghosted across his throat. Even now he could summon each intricate layer of that mesmerizing caress and that scared him most of all.  
  
Ron tried to wish it away, to block it out, but he instinctively knew it had been Draco's icy-white hair that had blinded him in the dream and his breath that whispered seductively across nerve endings, distracting him from the truth. It was the blonde bastard that saturated his thoughts and poisoned his ability to think straight. Maybe he was just immensely skeptical when it came to anything Malfoy related, but there had to be a reason for these changes in Draco and he couldn't help believe that it was some sly trick to ensnare them all.  
  
Ron eased the curtains back from around his bed, peering through the murky light to that of his best friend's bed. Harry had woken him up last night, just as he'd begun to doze off waiting for his friend to make a move. He had apologized for being an idiot and didn't want to lose Ron's friendship over a petty jealousy. Ron had told him that there was no possible likelihood in hell that he would ever hook up with Malfoy and that Harry was a 'nutter' to think so in the first place. They had grinned at each other, Ron punching his best friend playfully on the arm. Harry had attempted to play along before feigning a yawn and crawling into his own bed.  
  
Harry slept soundly, mostly because of the lingering effects of the potion. His arms were flung above his head. One leg dangled over the edge and Ron presumed the other was draped just as carelessly over the other side of the bed. He never understood how Harry in the dead of winter could bare to have his naked skin exposed to the chilly air that permeated the castle. Ron couldn't fathom even the thought of having a pinky toe out of his deliciously warm blanket.  
  
Winter had never sat well with him, besides the promise of Christmas holidays at home, what else did it offer? Ron was more than happy to see the season end and the beginnings of new life take hold in the grounds around the school. For now he'd endure and hopefully dream of frolicking in meadows, not encased in blinding white, chilled by snow and ice. Again, those things reminded him of only one person and he wanted to be free of such thoughts.  
  
He was happy. More than that, he was ecstatic that Harry was okay and that the potion had been a marvelous success. It still astounded him, Harry's ability to heal so incredibly fast. Maybe it was a repercussion of the spell his mother had cast, the one that saved him as a baby from 'he who shall not be named'. Ron never spoke to his friend about such things. He knew if his parents had died under similar circumstances, he probably wouldn't want to discuss it either.  
  
Harry stirred in his sleep, turning over so that his naked behind was displayed in all its dimpled glory. Ron stifled the first bubble of laughter, causing him to cough violently to keep himself under control. Trust Harry to be the one to bring him out of the doldrums.  
  
Ron knew then and there that his best friend was most definitely awake and Harry confirmed it no more then ten seconds later with a series of hilarious... wriggling, exaggerated stretching and flexing of his seeker toned arse... in what Ron guessed was a hopeful attempt to tantalize him.  
  
He snorted loudly, rolling onto his side, scrambling to get the blanket over his head and stuffing the corner into his mouth to stop giggling. Harry just wasn't playing fair! He was supposed to be resigned to the fact that he could never have him, not making it worse.  
  
Harry flipped over to throw his red-headed friend a wounded look for laughing at his expense. Ron rolled his eyes at the inflated pout. Harry ducked his head slightly; a guilty look stole over his face.  
  
"Hey, I lightened your thunderous mood at least?" he whispered. Ron nodded vigorously in response, holding his thumb and forefinger up to his face, squinting. "A tad," he whispered in return. Harry grinned, arching an eyebrow. "Well, that's a start."  
  
Seamus took this moment to yawn, rolling over in his sleep to blink drowsily at the two. He grinned sleepily as if even in his groggy state he had been watching the entire exchange.  
  
"Hey! You two aren't still living in denial are you?" he drawled, his eyes drifting closed even before he had finished speaking.  
  
Ron ignored the comment; he stretched, unwittingly letting his t-shirt ride up his abdomen, revealing an impressive array of tight stomach muscles. A banquet of the creamiest, most edible skin two horny Gryffindor's had ever had the privilege of gazing upon, lay before them.  
  
Harry gulped, catching Seamus' eye. Oh, he was very much awake now. They both grinned wolfishly before succumbing to fits of manly giggles.  
  
When Ron finally realized the motive for their acute glee, his whole face suffused with colour and he instantly pulled the blanket up till it was tucked firmly under his chin.  
  
Seamus literally had tears in his eyes from laughing so much and was rubbing at his aching cheeks, while Harry was grinning madly at Ron's sudden prudishness and yet desperately shaking because he badly needed to pee at the same time.  
  
Not being able to stand it a moment longer, he whipped back the covers and sped to the toilets. Ron spluttered noisily at Harry's sudden dash to the lavatory, while Seamus just stared at the empty space in Harry's bed and considered crawling under those warm covers and wallowing in his heat while he was busy elsewhere.  
  
Ron took this chance to get out of bed himself and dress quickly. He was starving considering he hadn't eaten properly since the day of the party. Oh, he'd snacked on whatever he could charm out of fellow Gryffindor's, but what he craved for about now was a full Hogwarts breakfast, bacon, eggs, sausage and mountains of deliciously hot-buttered toast. His stomach positively growled at such a feast. He swore he could hear the bacon sizzling, smell the fatty richness, taste each mouth-watering morsel on his tongue...  
  
Ron panted, almost drooling at the image. Oh Merlin, he had to leave now it was all too bloody much. He'd devour his left sneaker he was so damn hungry. Struggling into mismatched socks he glanced around the floor searching for his shoes. He really needed to learn to organise, the whereabouts of the majority of his belongings was a total mystery and he was getting very tired of the game of 'hide and seek' he went through every morning.  
  
"I'm going down to breakfast, tell Harry I'll meet him there?" he blurted out in Seamus' direction, one shoe on his foot, the laces straggling along the floor. The other he was struggling to get over his heel while hopping to the door. He was hindered by the bunched up sock that was refusing to move no matter how much he pleaded with it. Gripping onto the doorknob for support, he yanked hard, tearing a hole in the process. He swore loudly but at least the shoe now slipped in place. As he slammed the door behind him, he imagined the look of disappointment on his mothers face at yet another pair of his socks that would need darning.  
  
............................................................................ ..............................................................  
  
Ron quickly settled into his usual spot at the Gryffindor table, not a soul was there as a plate of steaming eggs, bacon and toast appeared before him. Sausages were apparently in short supply because of an unfortunate accident in the kitchen but Ron wasn't about to quibble. This was exquisite and for half a second he just stared, tears in his eyes, mouth gaping at the sheer artistry of the tower of sizzling food before him.  
  
Of course, by the end he was practically inhaling it off his plate.  
  
The hall started filling with students as Ron started in on his third helping. Harry plopped down beside him and he merely nodded a greeting through mouthful of fried egg, before carefully stacking his next forkful.  
  
Harry frowned, shaking his head. "How many so far?" he inquired.  
  
Ron grinned through his mouthful and held up three fingers towards Harry.  
  
Harry pursed his lips, both eyebrows raised and nodding his head slowly. "Really? I would have expected more from you by now."  
  
Ron narrowed his eyes at his friend as he chewed.  
  
Harry laughed, shrugging his shoulders before pinching half a slice of toast off the redhead's plate while he was distracted.  
  
Ron pouted at the pure sneakiness of his friend, attempting to snatch it back.  
  
"Got to be quicker mate. Seeker reflexes you know." Harry grinned, waving the toast in front of him teasingly.  
  
"Seeker reflexes my arse, you used dirty tactics..." he trailed off as Harry's eyes fell to the vicinity of his arse. Gulping down a particularly large portion of toast, Ron swiftly reached for the juice and tried not to slop it all over the table as he felt his best friends eyes still glued to his derriere.  
  
Harry waited till Ron was looking at him before biting sharply into the piece of toast, severing it in half neatly. He chewed deliberately while he pinned Ron with his gaze, satisfied he had got his point across as the glass shook in Ron's hand.  
  
Ron hastily took a sip, concentrating on not choking as he swallowed. A single drop dribbled over his chin and he froze as Harry's eyes faithfully tracked its course down his friend's throat only for it to slip disappointingly under those robes.  
  
Harry's eyes darted to his and he grinned innocently at him before turning to talk to Neville who had just sat down.  
  
Ron had just about recovered from Harry's eye-fucking when Marcus chose to seat himself directly opposite the redhead. He immediately bristled at the audacity of the boy.  
  
Marcus fluttered his eyelashes playfully at the object of his affection. Ron ducked his head and wolfed down the remainder of his breakfast. He finished his last mouthful, neatly placing his fork and knife together on his empty plate. Ron made to get up, but found himself trapped by two large feet clamped on either side of his hips.  
  
Slowly Ron lifted his head to gaze coolly at Marcus. The first thing that came into view was those provocative lips that curled knowingly at the corners of that mouth. Then there were those eyes that scorched him as they slid over his body, a mirror of what was being done by those toes that massaged his outer thigh with a vengeance.  
  
Ron was struck dumb by Marcus' blatant seduction. It took one foot sliding over his inner thigh and pressing intimately into his groin to bring him to his senses. Ron squeaked at the feel of agile toes stroking his cock through layers of material.  
  
"Fuck." Ron muttered.  
  
"I have every intention of..."  
  
Ron threw Marcus a dangerous look that told the beater he better not complete that sentence.  
  
Marcus grinned, flashing his teeth predatorily at Ron. "...doing just that." He concluded, his tongue darting out to lick his top lip suggestively.  
  
Ron shivered at the image that evoked in his mind. It wasn't entirely disgusting, yet still disturbing enough for him to break the contact immediately.  
  
His sudden movement brought Harry's attention back to him and his friend instantly assessed what was going on.  
  
Harry slid closer to Ron and forcefully removed those feet from his friend's crotch, Marcus' knee banging onto the underside of the table with the strength of Potter's removal, upsetting several dishes in their wake. Harry leaned across Ron's lap and garnered Marcus' full attention by growling threateningly under his breath.  
  
Ron speculated that Harry might have more in common with Remus Lupin then he first thought, not that he wasn't thrilled that Harry was trying to protect him, as a loyal friend should. But still, the longer the 'pissing match' continued between the two, the less it felt like 'defending' and the more he felt like Harry was marking his territory, that Ron was his and no one messed with his property, nobody.  
  
Ron blushed to the tips of his ears; his eyes flitting away from his two would be suitors to his audience at large. Oh Merlin, he was most definitely the focus of the entire hall.  
  
Marcus and Harry lunged at each other and began to snarl, slobber and tear each other to pieces. Ron very calmly got out his chair, noticing that the Slytherin's were snickering evilly at their table, Malfoy noticeably absent from his absolute humiliation. There was at least an upside to this nightmare. He turned and as inconspicuously as possible left the hall, various teachers pushing past him to get to the two boys rolling around on the floor.  
  
Hermione called out to Ron as he heaved the main door closed behind him. She had entered the hall only a moment ago for breakfast and had just caught the tail end of Harry's and Marcus' brawl before Professors seized them apart.  
  
"Well, I guess he'll find out soon enough." She huffed.  
  
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	13. Chapter Thirteen

LOTR Sparkling Pippin- I'm hurrying , I promise *grin* Thank you hon for all comments, ecstatic that you are liking everything and hope you continue to enjoy. It may take a little longer for me to finish the next parts as I'm trying to finish a slew of WIP's I have in another fandom because having them uncompleted is driving me batty. LOL . No, I'm not stopping this story, just slowing down a little.  
  
Chapter Thirteen  
  
Ron paced the hallways, going wherever the stairs led him, further into the bowels of the ancient castle, and strangely enough, towards the dungeons. He had no planned destination, just a desire to keep moving, not to let his anger get the better of him. Before he could snap out of his black mood, he found himself outside Professor Snape's classroom, his hand already curled around the door handle.  
  
Blinking at the heavy wooden door before him, Ron was confused as to how he'd managed to end up here of all places and at least twenty minutes before the start of class to boot! Ron didn't like to be in Professor Snape's presence at the best of times, let alone be early to one of his classes.  
  
So, how did he end up here? He really had to pay more attention when he was forced into one of his infamous brooding sessions. Taking his hand back from the rough iron knob, as if a mere touch would burn him, he quickly turned and made his way back up the stairs.  
  
He barely tolerated the man most of the time and for that very reason would never incite a confrontation with the potion master, especially since expulsion would clearly be the result with the mood he was in.  
  
Ron was about three-quarters of the way up the first flight of stairs when he heard someone coming down them, not far above him and moving incredibly fast.  
  
'Blast' Ron panicked. Last thing he needed was to be caught loitering in the dungeon, particularly if it was who he thought it was.  
  
Without an escape route he had only one course of action, back down and into the classroom. Taking the stairs three at a time, he reached the door, pulled it open and slipped inside.  
  
He immediately noticed Malfoy seated in the front row on the Slytherin side of the room. Ron paused, instantly forgetting that there had been someone closing in behind him.  
  
So this is where the dirty scoundrel had gotten too. He was avoiding eating breakfast altogether now so he could spend more time sucking up to his master. How sweet.  
  
Ron got curious as he moved down the centre aisle; he hesitated at his usual desk but kept moving when he decided messing with Malfoy might be more fun.  
  
Seating himself directly opposite the blonde, he made a show out of emptying his books, quills and etcetera, onto the desk. He was rather disappointed when Malfoy didn't even turn to sneer at him. Five minutes and there had been not a single slur uttered his way, all was definitely not right with the world.  
  
Where was the Professor in all this? Ron had expected to see him rush into the room behind him. He'd have sworn it was Snape's footsteps, but if so, where was he? The stairs led nowhere else; even if it hadn't been the professor it had to be someone, right?  
  
Ron turned around in his seat and stared at the door, almost wishing Snape would come through it. Narrowing his eyes at the door, he growled. What in the hell was going on? He caught movement beside him and switched to glaring at Malfoy instead.  
  
"What's wrong with you?" he seethed, his fingers wrapping around the end of his wand that lay across his lap, concealed in the folds of his robes.  
  
No response to his question, not a look or a carefully thrown insult, nothing.  
  
Ron swung his eyes around to the front and threw hateful glances at the defenceless blackboard. His fingers tightening around the wand till he heard a solid crack, immediately he let go, goddamn it!  
  
Why was it that Malfoy could summon his darkest thoughts with only his mere presence in the same room? The unmitigated bastard didn't even have to open that acidic mouth of his, to have that same effect that he always did. Ron had broken yet another wand, won't mum be pleased.  
  
Ron closed his eyes for a moment, pulling in the fragments of his anger, tugging them in close to him so as not to unleash it on that worthless blonde, no matter how much he was tempted.  
  
The unending, ceaseless hush that followed was hell on earth. It infused every particle.  
  
He could stand it no longer. Ron jumped out of his chair, shoving the two useless halves of his wand into his pocket, he stood in the aisle facing Malfoy, glaring down at the bane of his existence and daring him not to react.  
  
Unfortunately that's exactly what Draco did; he took that silent challenge and effectively blocked Ron from his mind.  
  
Ron continued to stare transfixed for a minute, before spinning back to his desk, sweeping the contents of the table into his arms and sauntering deliberately to the front of the classroom, smiling to himself. He crossed in front of Malfoy, only to seat himself comfortably next to his enemy. His grin widened when he finally got the reaction he was hoping for. Malfoy stiffened minutely in his chair, nothing more, but it was a start.  
  
Draco was hunched over an open textbook that lay on the desk at his elbow, only the tip of his nose was visible from Ron's position. Picking up the quill because he needed something to do with his hands, Ron tapped the end annoyingly against the tabletop repeatedly, waiting for Malfoy to snap and insult him.  
  
An eternity of waiting later and still no response...  
  
A smidgeon of dirt on Draco's robes drew Ron's attention. His brow furrowed as he leaned in towards the Slytherin brat. Ron was riveted to the dark stain that seemed so out of place on Malfoy's robes. Suddenly he realized what it was that drew him. It was blood and his eyes widened in shock at that fact.  
  
"Malfoy, what happened to you?" Ron winced at the tone in his own voice; it suggested excessive concern for someone he loathed with a passion.  
  
Malfoy's eyelids slipped closed and he murmured an incantation under his breath before another deep shudder ran down the length of his spine. Draco still refused to acknowledge Weasley's presence.  
  
Ron reached out to touch Malfoy's arm, to shake him, but before he made contact Draco finally reacted, instantly reeling back out the Gryffindor's grasp. Ron recoiled at the sudden movement; his hand still hovered where the Slytherin had been sitting.  
  
"Don't touch me..." Draco gasped, still declining to look at Weasley directly, but before Draco had a chance to turn his face away completely, Ron glimpsed at the extent of his injuries.  
  
"Oh My God." the Gryffindor breathed, shrinking back, horrified. "Who did this to you?"  
  
Draco wheezed in pain, as the memory of the beating he had received came roaring to the surface with Ron's words. Leaving his belongings, he hobbled quickly to the door and away from his ultimate humiliation. How dare one of Gryffindor's white knights express such concern for his well-being? Weasley had no entitlement to show him any such emotion, other than anger, or ask for any explanation in return.  
  
Ron wasn't giving up that damn easy. He sprung away from the table and dashed around the other side, planting himself in the middle of the aisle and effectively prevented the blonde from leaving the classroom.  
  
Far from being persuaded to stay, Malfoy flew into an irrational rage and charged the startled redhead, driving Ron back against the rough wood of the door. His breath rushed out him as the back of his head connected with solid oak.  
  
"Bastard, why can't you let me be?" Malfoy was so close to him that his vision swam in front of his eyes. Weasley struggled to focus. "You're everywhere, when I only want to be left alone." Draco screamed, one hand fisting into Ron's tatty robes. Blood from his busted lip sprayed across Weasley's stunned face.  
  
Ron was damned if he knew how to react to a terrified and crazed Malfoy. He held up his hands to protect himself from the arms that wildly slammed into him, pounding into him savagely as if blaming the redhead for every mark that had been placed on his body. Ron couldn't keep up with the blows, there was no pattern, and no symmetry, just pure hate filled adrenalin overriding everything. Draco had clearly gone insane and he had wandered right into his honey-coated trap.  
  
Ron screamed with the frustration and exhaustion as he gave up fighting back and just attempted to cover his head and body from further assault. It was only as Draco began to waver in his resolve to kill him that Ron managed to gain some ground and struggle with the psychotic Slytherin. Not thinking, he swung his arm forward in a wide arc, connecting with the side of Draco's head and sending him stumbling backwards, stools crashing to the floor.  
  
Immediately Ron felt nauseous, swallowing the sour taste of vomit in his mouth at the thought of what he'd done. His fist had torn through skin that had already seen another's mercy. Draco's flesh had been so lovingly tenderized that the mere recollection of what he'd executed had him bent over the side of the desk and ridding himself of his breakfast.  
  
There had been no other way; Draco had been out of control and wasn't about to stop punishing him for pushing an answer out of him. He was loath to wish anymore pain on the Slytherin, but he'd dealt it just the same, hadn't he?  
  
"I'm sorry, so very sorry." his voice shook and Ron had to force himself to look at those accusing eyes, knowing now he deserved his absolute hatred.  
  
Ron pitifully tried to reach out a hand to help him up off the cold stone floor. Naturally, Draco only glared with equal quantities of disgust and fear at such an offer. Malfoy back-pedalled across the floor a safe distance from Weasley, the infernal redhead who had harmed him after pretending so sincerely to care.  
  
Ron cried out in frustration, wiping his mouth savagely against the hem of his robe to rid himself of the bitter taste, still the bile of his betrayal remained. The hem of his robes slipped from his fingers as his hooded eyes connected with Malfoy's burning hatred. He dared to look at his accuser through a forest of strawberry blonde lashes. He couldn't help himself when the words came... he needed to know why.  
  
"What in Merlin's name happened to you?" He pleaded with Draco who was flattening himself against the wall as he stupidly inched closer to the cornered pit-bull snarling at his feet. Ron realized, gradually that he was actually begging Malfoy to tell him, but he was far from caring.  
  
"You need to get to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey will..."  
  
Hugging his knees to his chest, Malfoy vehemently shook his head. "Stay out of this Weasel. I have my reasons for not letting that interfering nurse touch me."  
  
Ron sighed, leaning back against the table opposite Draco, his bent elbows resting on the surface. His arms ached from fending off the blonde only a minute ago, but he deserved so much more.  
  
"That's ridiculous Malfoy. She's there to help. Oh don't tell me you like walking around like..." Ron stopped. Of course! Why hadn't he thought of that before? That was why he wasn't going to Madam Pomfrey.  
  
"Oh, I see. Worried that other students might see that face of yours as less than perfection and we can't have that, can we? Must look immaculate at all times, Daddy's little clone. You vain prick. Suck up your pride Malfoy because..." why couldn't he just shut the hell up? Ron wanted to slap himself in the face. Again he was assaulting Draco. Why did the blonde drag out of him all his base instincts?  
  
"Because what?" Draco snorted. "Because I care how others see me, because you can't wait to tell those friends of yours? Going to have a nice ol' chuckle on how that Slytherin brat got just what he deserved." Draco managed to push himself onto his own two feet, damned if he'd have a Weasley standing over him. Yes, he bloody well had his pride still and no gangly, freckle-nosed, ginger-headed Gryffindor sidekick was ever going to get the better of him.  
  
"Yeah, I'm here to see the head of Slytherin, because if anyone can help me it's Professor Snape. He isn't eternally nosey and he doesn't solicit answers to what doesn't concern him." Sneering at Ron, his chin held high despite a myriad of purplish bruises that encompassed his entire face.  
  
Ron for once ignored his remarks. "What about your wand? Surely..."  
  
"No" Draco barked. "I was hexed so that simply flapping a wand about would have no effect on my... injuries. The bastard was nothing but thorough...another reason why I need a potion master."  
  
"Who...?"  
  
"Don't bother Weasley" he interrupted, slamming his hand down on the table for emphasis and regretting it instantly. "You're wasting your time asking."  
  
Ron rocked on the balls of his feet, he'd just about come to Draco's rescue as he watched the intense pain flicker across his face...he caught himself just in time.  
  
"Stubborn git!" Ron muttered under his breath.  
  
Draco clutched his throbbing hand to his chest and dared to smirk back at the redhead. "That's right Weasley, Iam obstinate. I believe it's a trait you and I share." He sneered at the redhead. "The only thing we share." He intoned. Suddenly he leaned forward as if to impart some dark secret. "Must eat you up, not knowing?" he whispered mockingly.  
  
"You like goading me into an argument?"  
  
"Do I?"  
  
"You have to tell someone, why not me?"  
  
"Why not indeed? Such an attractive offer" He deadpanned back at the redhead for even thinking that he'd tell him anything.  
  
"Come on, who better to tell. You hate the idea of anyone pitying you and you know I won't slobber all over you like the Slytherins will. Obviously you need to get it off your chest?"  
  
"Really? How presumptuous of you. You must know me so well Weasley?" Draco was astounded; he never realized that Weasley was this pathetic. As if he'd tell Ron or any other person in this school a damned thing about anything in his life.  
  
Ron ignored that trademark smirk and the cynicism that came as a skilfully bound package.  
  
"You desperately need to tell me."  
  
Draco scoffed at that. Okay, that was taking it a little too far. "Not you Weasel. No matter the circumstance, it would never be you that I'd come too."  
  
Ron flinched despite himself. Those words were drenched in ice and spat nastily at him. He meant every single word.  
  
It gave him little pleasure to insult Weasley. Once, it would have been the embodiment of all things magnificent in this world, to slight a Gryffindor, trod, squish all those gorgeously descriptive words...especially to one of the dastardly trio. Now it was different.  
  
One long lazy afternoon during the summer holidays, a devastating talk with his mother in the downstairs parlour and his whole world had reversed over the top of him. Draco wanted nothing more than to be elsewhere. He simply didn't care and he wanted no involvement in any of it, anymore.  
  
Blood dripped onto Ron's sleeve, soaking into the dark material. Reaching a hand up to rub absently at his nose, his fingers came away smeared in the bright red liquid.  
  
Ron was ignoring him, just as he had done to the redhead. This was incredibly childish on Weasley's behalf, however it was working and Draco found himself even more peeved with the Gryffindor.  
  
"Oh, for Salazar's sake, you are gawking at your own blood like you've never seen the like of it before." Ron was busy painting his fingers with his own blood, not in the least bit aware that he was seriously annoying Malfoy. "You're the ever faithful companion, always tagging blindly along behind whatever foolish escapade 'golden-boy' sticks his ruddy nose into. With that, I would have expected Pomfrey to have your blood on tap to use at a moments notice."  
  
Ron should have growled, but the image Draco's words created was far too comical for him to be angry with. He grinned, admiring the intricate pattern he had completed over his right hand. Holding it up to his face, Ron gazed unblinkingly, fascinated with his blood that seemed to glisten with iridescence when he wiggled his fingers experimentally.  
  
Delighted and giddy with unforeseen pleasure, Ron drifted to the front of the classroom to collect his school supplies, awkwardly cramming them into his shoulder bag.  
  
The blonde couldn't quite believe that after all this drama, Weasley was actually leaving him or that's what it appeared the redhead was about to do. Draco followed the Gryffindor up the same path, stopping a short distance behind him.  
  
"What are you doing Weasley?" he demanded. His mouth slightly gaping at Ron who was using his left elbow to hold the bag open, while he fed the books in under his left hand.  
  
Draco shook his head incredulously. What was he doing? Had Weasley finally gone nuts? Malfoy glanced at the sink that was no more than an arms breadth away, his eyes widening in alarm. He slowly backed up, his breath erratic, but before he could turn and run like hell, Ron had swung around and latched his left hand onto Draco's arm.  
  
Malfoy immediately struggled in his abject terror, striking out blindly with his feet, his hands trying desperately to prize the iron like grip from around his arm. Weasley wasn't even trying to defend himself. He was deadly still, his eyes fixed steadily on his prey.  
  
Draco refused to look into Weasley's eyes, afraid of what he might see there. "No, no, no. Please not you too." He chanted under his breath.  
  
In a flash Weasley released him only to snake his left arm around Draco's waist, tugging him till the blonde was flush with Ron's body.  
  
He couldn't help the scream that forced its way out of his throat. Draco thrashed in a futile attempt to free himself. His dilated pupils locked on the hand that hovered inches from his face, it shimmered with unspeakable power.  
  
Draco was frozen in place as Ron brought both of his hands up to gently cup Malfoy's bruised face.  
  
He couldn't move as the warmth from his touch seeped into his skin. Draco closed his eyes as Weasley breathed over his lips. He wished he could project his mind anywhere but here. This is almost exactly what happened last time, he knew what came next, the pain, the searing pain that sliced deep into his flesh and left him howling in agony.  
  
Ron brought his mouth to Draco's forehead; he blew gently at the errant strays of blonde hair that lay there. They scattered back into place as Ron pressed his lips to Draco's warm skin.  
  
Draco's eyes flew open as his skin tingled pleasantly where Weasley was kissing him. He gasped against Ron's throat. Tendrils of smoke circled around them, Draco was on fire from the inside as nerve endings sizzled, radiating over his face and down his spine.  
  
He jerked spasmodically in Weasley's arms as his wounds began to heal. Throwing his head back as his eyes rolled back in his head. Draco continued to shudder as the last of his injuries sealed over, bruises vanishing, scars blending into his new skin as if nothing had ever happened to him. Once more Malfoy's skin gleamed palely in the dungeon's tawny light.  
  
They still clung to each other, Draco staring unbelievingly into Ron's blood red eyes as a fiery sphere burst through the Potions lab's main doors, colliding with them on its way to the blackboard.  
  
Ron and Draco were thrown apart, landing at either sides of the room. Immediately, the fireball exploded against the blackboard in a shower of sparks, leaving behind a message that glowed ominously in the subdued light.  
  
"Mr. Weasley, Mr. Malfoy. You are late for my class and if you had been paying the least bit of attention the last time you were both bickering like first years, you would know that I asked that this lesson be held in the Quidditch field. Ten points from both your houses and further ten points will be deducted from Gryffindor if Mr. Malfoy comes to class with even a scratch. Do you understand me Mr. Weasley?"  
  
Draco had to laugh at that, the professor had no idea.  
  
Ron was nodding his head as if the dreaded potion master was in the very room.  
  
Draco gazed curiously at Weasley, whose eyes had turned back to their original shade of deep blue.  
  
Ron rubbed at his eyelids, they itched like crazy. He glared accusingly at Draco who appeared to be very pleased with himself.  
  
"How the hell did I get way over here?" Ron retorted. "I feel like I was run over by one of those darn carts in the vaults of Gringotts." He growled, rubbing a hand over his throbbing butt.  
  
Draco was almost tempted to add a snide remark like 'how the hell a Weasley would know anything about the wizarding bank' but he bit his tongue knowing somehow the redhead had healed him and he should be thankful.  
  
"Your face." Ron blurted out. "How?"  
  
Draco grinned. "Magic." he answered.  
  
"Huh?" Ron frowned, wiping traces of blood from his right hand onto his jeans.  
  
............................................................................ .................................................................... 


	14. Chapter Fourteen

_Hi everyone, thank you all, again, for reviewing._

**_Cosmoz- _**_ I'm happy you like the story, I'm definitely having a blast writing it. Thanks for your comments...on reviews. Well I'm glad I'm getting a few but I'd never say no to more LOL _

_On with the show..._

Part Fourteen

As Malfoy matched his steps with that of Weasley's, he found himself thinking about the annoying redhead and how he had mended his wounds, had kissed him. It was that kiss that preoccupied his thoughts and it wasn't like it had been anything to owl home about; like he ever would. He could imagine the look on his father's face at that little tidbit. Not that the kiss had been anything other than innocent in nature, Draco could think of nothing else since those warm lips had pressed against his forehead. Weasley had healed him with that simple caress and he couldn't even taunt Weasley with that bit of embarrassing information because the darn Gryffindor had no memory of any of it. Nothing! Nada! What was going on with him?

Draco could almost believe that he'd dreamt up the whole mess as he glanced at his flawless complexion in one of the windows as they passed the Great Hall on their way outside. He watched detached as the mirror image distorted to that of panic. Immediately, his reflection in the glass appeared to ice over, freezing that hollow expression indefinitely. Draco blinked back tears and wrenched himself away from the apparition, only too aware of the agony he had endured not long ago. 

Not only was there no scar to herald what had happened to him, but the words that had been crudely carved into Draco's chest and back had also vanished along with the bruises. Words he himself had nastily spat at others had mockingly been cut into his own flesh, branding him with their cruel irony. 

The physical pain may have been banished, but the memory remained intact. Draco remembered the much-hated tears that had stung as much as the knife sliding with practiced ease into his flesh. Each letter had been punctuated by his cries of help... torturous screams that had never been answered as his room had been blanketed in a Imperturbable charm.

Draco once again chanced a sideways glimpse at Weasley. His face was partially hidden from view behind a veil of waxen hair that fell to his shoulders, a blinding wave of defiance. Weasley coughed and pretended he didn't notice the Slytherin's attentions.

Ron threw the main doors open and held them for Draco to exit first. The blonde lifted his chin minutely as he passed by the Gryffindor, confused by the gesture and angry with himself for being so taken by the redhead's chivalry.

Once outside, they both hesitated before making their way across the perfectly manicured lawn on their way to the dreaded Quidditch pitch. 

Now, for the first time, he wondered if Weasley was lying to him. Was the redhead in denial or did he simply not remember? Draco was leaning toward the later. It wasn't like Weasley was some great intellect when it came to spell casting or anything useful as a matter of course. No, he believed Weasley again had been a convenient pawn in the game Malfoy was still waiting to be formally invited to. 

Ron could feel those eyes on him and he held the shudder that fixed gaze induced. He refused to be pulled into Malfoy's amusing little diversion. He was immensely wary of the blonde's presence beside him and no matter how much he had tried to shake the bastard, he just couldn't. Every time he sped up, he was there, a blonde sheet of hair swinging into his peripheral vision like the first sign of the apocalypse.

He should have told Malfoy to bugger off but he hadn't as of yet. In his own defence it wasn't like the Slytherin was really bothering him, other than continually staring at him with an extremely puzzled expression that is. No, Ron just didn't want any further confrontations with the blonde git. Not today. 

Again something weird had happened in which he'd lost a portion of his memory. The last time this happened he'd tried to kill his best friend; this time Ron had helped his enemy and both occasions disturbingly involved Malfoy. What were the implications of that exactly and who's sick, twisted game were they playing?

Malfoy hadn't exactly told him that he'd healed him, but Ron took one look at the blonde and just knew. Ron had regained consciousness, a second before he was hurled across the other side of the room. Before that he remembered his arms had been wound around Malfoy and the look in the Slytherins eyes had been positively sinful. Oh god. He so did not want to know anymore. Even that had been too much information. 

So they walked in companionable silence into the Quidditch arena, neither wanting to break the spell and have to talk about what had happened.

They parted ways as both of them neared the makeshift classroom. Worktables and stools had been conjured as an almost duplicate of the ones in the Potions lab except for one glaring difference; instead of the eternal dreariness of the dungeons, they had fresh air, blue skies and grass under their feet.

Ron could almost believe that the improved surroundings made up for having to face one Severus Snape. Well... almost. He quickly took a seat at the same table as Harry and Seamus. It had become too darn quiet to be a good thing and he knew that the Professor was about to take another zillion points off Gryffindor and lecture him on tardiness. Although Malfoy had also been absent, he would be of course the one who took the blame for both of them. 

As a result, he fudged for as long as humanly possible, silently removing his notes, quills and other such necessary equipment, stalling pathetically while everyone looked on in perverse anticipation of the inevitable. The Slytherins were most certainly sneering at him openly, while his fellow Gryffindor's were probably cringing in sympathy at the mere thought of what their vile Potions master was going to do to him. 

Ron, in the end, knew he had no choice but to look up and face his punishment with some modicum of decorum and still keep his dignity, funny thing is, neither were exactly Weasley traits. 

Draco, for once, wasn't gleefully holding his breath waiting for Snape to verbally attack the redhead. Instead he was siding with The Gryffindor's 'heaven forbid'. Well, on the inside at least. In all outward appearances Draco Malfoy was the son of a bitch he had always been and would always be.

Snape smirked nastily as Ron finally gave up the pretence and looked up to see what all the fuss was. "Ahh...Mister Weasley! You have finally joined us I see."

Ron gulped; this was not going to be good at all.

"I dearly hope that this lesson is not eroding into your precious social calendar." Snape offered with just the merest hint of sarcasm. "Your potions talent is nonexistent; your conduct appalling; but why should you fret? Why you could always begin your career in professional Quidditch now, saving me the inconvenience of failing you in this class." 

Before Draco even really thought about just what he was initiating, he was doing just that. Standing up in front of everyone and saving Weasley from further embarrassment, plus detention of course. The only excuse Draco could contemplate was that he had clearly gone insane, but the mentally ill didn't usually out themselves as being just that, did they? So... maybe he was just having some type of lapse into stupidity, the same descent into idiocy that was occurring with alarming frequency since his mother had rocked his world- so to speak.

"Professor, I need to speak to you. It's important?" Draco butted in just as Snape was getting warmed up. Oh how he enjoyed bringing those Gryffindor brats down a notch or three. As a result of being spoiled of one of his few pleasures and by one of his own house, by Draco, well, he was momentarily stunned into silence before succumbing to his favourite students wishes. The slightly pleading look in the young Malfoy's eyes had been his undoing. Yet, he was still peeved that the boy had interrupted him in mid-rant. 

"Very well Mr. Malfoy, if it cannot wait," and with no further acknowledgement he marched across the field, away from his students who all were buzzing with what the Slytherin had done. Malfoy quickly got out of his chair to pursue his teacher, although he'd have rather just burrowed into the dirt under his feet and stayed there. He cursed his need not to be indebted to a Weasley, but the way he'd done it was going to have mouths flapping for weeks with what had possibly gone on between them.

Ron had watched the entire exchange with somewhat awe at being rescued, eleventh hour like, and by a Malfoy of all people. Harry was bristling in the seat to his right, while Seamus just grinned at him knowingly, before whispering, "Whatever did you and Malfoy get up too in the dungeons? I was impressed when you arrived and neither of you had killed the other, but this...well I'm speechless."

Harry growled dangerously at the Irishman, while Seamus just threw up his hands in mock surrender. Still, he couldn't keep the grin off his face. Ron didn't even have a comeback he was too busy blushing, furious that Malfoy had put him in this situation.

Professor Snape whirled around to face the blonde Slytherin once he'd stepped onto the nearest tower, which just happened to be Hufflepuff. 

"Tell me then Malfoy. What were you doing in the dungeons with Weasley when I told the entire class that our next lesson would be here on the Quidditch pitch? Have you been fighting on my time, in my classroom?"

"I forgot." Draco murmured. "Something happened..."

"What do you mean you forgot? I expect this from Mr. Weasley, but not from you Draco. How would you explain this to your father if he by chance found out? This is Slytherin; your peers would only be too willing to sell you out for some measly favour. We live by the code...survival by any means necessary, friendships be damned. You know this yet you have started a relationship with a Weasley of all wizards? What has come over you? Have you no shame?"

"I was raped." croaked Draco, his eyes slipping closed at the confession. Immediately, he apologized, head bent in submission. "Sorry, I'm so sorry." He whispered, truly ashamed of his behaviour. Draco had finally revealed the truth to someone at least, a person he trusted, but also he'd opened up to himself. Before this moment, he'd obliterated it from his mind, wanting only to concentrate on the beating. There had been nothing else to tell in his view until it was pulled out of him unexpectedly.

"I'll kill him." Snape howled in part fury, part grief, tearing back towards his students, kicking up clumps of dirt and grass with his boots in his wake. Black fathomless hatred had transformed his features and as those timeworn fingers closed firmly around his wand. He could only think of the sweet agony of torture and death to whom had touched the son of Lucius Malfoy.

"Professor?" Draco opened his eyes, blinking to clear his mind, only to observe as if in slow motion, Professor Snape bolting across the Quidditch pitch towards his class, wand held outstretched before him. Draco's throat actually closed over as the Professors last words echoed in his head and their meaning at last became chillingly clear. Oh god no. 

Draco screamed, in turn alerting the other sixth year Gryffindor's and Slytherin's as to what was going on. Their professor was bearing down on them at tremendous speed and Draco Malfoy was pelting across the field after him. No one knew if they were meant to laugh at the bizarre sight or get the hell out of there. 

Ron flinched as the Professor got closer, realizing that the murderess look in his teacher's eyes was aimed directly at him. It was too late to do anything other than snatch his own wand off the table as the first spell hit Ron square in the chest, sending him crashing into an equally flustered Seamus before having an intimate encounter with the floor. 

"Expelliarmus!" 

His wand, invisibly wrenched from his grasp. It was only when Ron started to push himself up did he notice that it was now in Snape's possession. The man himself stood over him menacingly and Ron had never been more terrified in his exceptionally short life. He had no idea why or what Malfoy had told him, but one thing he did know unequivocally- his Potions teacher was about to kill him.

Snape's wand never wavered from its target as cold eyes drilled ruthlessly into his. Ron knew he had no opportunity of making a run for it and no means to defend himself. He was so petrified of what was to come and why that when at last the professor made his move, Ron knew only to well the curse upon his teachers lips before the man had even finished casting it. 

"Crucio!" Snape pronounced with deliberate care as to cause the most suffering.

"No, no, no!" Draco screamed, too late to stop the curse from hitting its intended victim. "Not Weasley, it wasn't him." He breathed, horrified at what he saw. 

Except Ron wasn't hit with the curse at the last second. It was intercepted by Neville Longbottom who had dived from his chair into Ron Weasley's lap. There was definitely a reason the boy had been sorted into Gryffindor. 

Ron was frozen in shock, eyes impossibly wide as he watched Neville twitch and moan in excruciating pain. Harry disgusted with his inability to prevent what had happened, sunk to the ground alongside his best friend and began to shake him. Ron ignored him, clutching Neville to him in desperation. 

"Ron, Ron you have to let him go." Harry whimpered, feeling the terror rolling off both his friends. 

"Oh god Harry, do something..., please?" Weasley begged, his eyes fixed on Harry because he always knew what to do.

Harry shook his head in despair. "I don't know how." He mouthed at Ron before glaring up at Professor Snape. 

The professor just stood there, gaping at the scene as if he wasn't responsible for this unpleasant incident.

"Severus?" Draco hissed in his teacher's ear. Professor Snape turned to the boy and ultimately snapped back to the present. 

"Finite Incantatum." Snape bellowed, horrified that he'd used an Unforgivable on anyone, least of all an innocent student. 

Neville collapsed into Ron's arms, curling himself protectively around his friend's body. Snape shakily dropped both his and Weasley's wand onto the grass, dismissing the class in the process in an awful hollow voice. Most of the students scattered back to the main building not wanting to be caught in any crossfire between 'the boy who lived' and their Potions master. 

Ron soothed the shudders that cascaded down his friend's spine and eventually Neville's laboured breathing slowly returned to normal. Gently he passed the exhausted boy to Harry to comfort for awhile.

Standing up, Ron turned on his teacher. "How dare you." He hissed. "What is wrong with you? I should have known that a Slytherin like yourself would eventually slip up and your true nature would be revealed. You're a member of the order, you may have deceived Dumbledore but you never fooled me and now you are going to pay." He screeched, instantly recognizing his mistake in front of Malfoy but not caring, he deserved to be punished by his kind for his betrayal. Only a Death Eater would know the perfect torment to fit the crime. 

Snatching his own wand up off the ground, he kicked at the professor's, so wanting to hear that justified snap of wood under the heel of his boot. 

Severus flinched and made a move to retrieve his wand before it was destroyed, but Ron lunged at him, furious. Back-handing his teacher across the face, Snape reeled backwards at the assault. Ron screamed murderously, jabbing his wand into his teacher's chest threateningly.

"Ron, don't do it. He's not worth going to Azkaban for." Harry pleaded, hoping he was getting through to his friend. 

Ron gritted his teeth, his hand shaking violently as he pointed the wand at Snape. At least his teacher had the good sense to look scared. Although Ron knew he didn't have the means to summon anything that would truly end the life of the man before him, he could still reek a bloody painful revenge if he so wished it. No, in the end it was just the wand in his hand that gave him stability and that was enough to quell the rest. 

A moment later Ron felt a warm breath on the back of his neck and when a pale hand curled around his on the wand, he easily relinquished his weapon to Draco, swiftly moving away from his forbidden touch. 

Harry gently rocked the semi-conscious Neville in his arms, but inside his heart was breaking. 


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Huge Thank you to Viu, way2kazy, and potterfan8807 my anonymous reviewers, I appreciate you taking the time to comment. So thank you everyone. 

On with the chapter...

Chapter Fifteen 

Harry had spent the day searching for Neville, finally cornering him in the common room that night. He pleaded with him, attempting to coax the boy into reporting Professor Snape to the Headmaster, but again he flat out refused. 

"I told you, I won't do that to him."

Neither could he be persuaded to visit the hospital wing to let Madam Pomfrey treat any lingering pain triggered by the curse.

"There's nothing wrong with me. For Merlin's sake give it up Harry." Neville insisted, closing the book on _Rare & Dangerous Plants_ he had been trying to read for the past hour, if anyone would leave him in peace.

"But why? Can you tell me that?"

Neville avoided giving Harry an answer, even when he wasn't sure of his motives. 

"I won't do it. You just have to believe me when I say I have my reasons and leave it at that."

Of course Harry wasn't satisfied with that response and went to open his mouth, to protest, except Neville beat him to it.

"Enough! I'm going to bed, this doesn't concern you." He was furious as he stormed up the stairs to the dorms.

All the Gryffindor's, who had been present when he had jumped in front of that curse, had tried to wheedle him into changing his mind except he would not be swayed. They thought they knew the answer. He was deathly afraid of what an ex-Death Eater might just do if he squealed to Dumbledore. They couldn't have been more wrong and although he never truly gave them a reason, he made each of them swear they would not breathe a word. 

*****************************************************

A single day had passed and they had all kept their promise, if not reluctantly. Potions, luckily had been cancelled the following day. Apparently, Professor Snape had been laid up with a nasty case of some exotic muggle flu that everyone knew was a lie to avoid their accusing stares. He would have no choice but to face them all eventually. Still, they were all relieved nonetheless that he hadn't shown his face so soon after the incident. 

Breakfast had been a silent affair on the start of the second day; concerned looks were flitted back and forth down the length of the table. All of them eventually returning to the oblivious boy, who's only concern at that juncture, were if today he preferred a light breakfast or if his strict diet regime could survive a little deviation. With a smile, Neville decided it could and promptly ordered the works. Sniffing appreciatory at the mound of sausages, eggs and tomatoes, he quickly dug in. He deserved a treat after saving Snape's worthless arse from the Dementer's kiss. Neville snorted at the very naughty images that his brain had conjured at his words. He really had a wicked imagination when inspired. A fact he kept strictly to himself.

Neville eventually looked up, ignoring the anxious faces of his friends to gaze across the hall to that of the Slytherin table. There amongst them, appearing to be desperate in making sure he was counted, sat Draco. Neville knew that something had not been right with the blonde Slytherin for sometime. Anger had descended upon that meticulously wrought composure and the tiniest cracks in Draco's veneer, those of which only a true outsider would notice, had begun to appear. 

He watched as Draco lifted his eyes towards the Gryffindor table, landing on the unsuspecting Ron and then back to some one-sided conversation with the blissfully unobservant Blaise Zabini. He examined the blonde Slytherin's strange yet enchanting behaviour. Those eyes searched that of Ron's and then just as suddenly returning to his friends as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. For a while Neville was quietly amused with the game, wondering if the blonde would ever be caught staring, but it never came to be. Ron was utterly obtuse, as so it seemed was every member of the Slytherin house, and Neville grew tired of waiting for the redhead to wake the hell up. With a heavy sigh, he left the Great Hall to seek another's company. He had an urge to check up on a certain Professor, to at least speak with him. He knew all too well the Potions Master was a mess and he wanted to assure the man that he would not be reporting anything to anyone. 

Harry also noticed Draco's attentions but he said nothing to Ron, who at least appeared ignorant of the Slytherin's eyes drifting across a sea of faces to search out that of his best friend. He hated that carefully fashioned blank expression, a look that gave off no emotion, yet spoke volumes just the same. Okay, he realized that Ron was not going to be his, probably never would be even if he knew his friend was at least a little curious. Still, Draco was not an option. That elitist bugger, that nasty scum-swilling bastard was never going to date his best friend, not if he had anything to do with it. 

"Harry, this is loony letting Snape get away with cursing Neville with an Unforgivable."

"I know, believe me I know, but he won't listen." Harry answered, distracted by Draco's sudden exit from the Great Hall. "I would tell Dumbledore myself, but Neville's so ruddy adamant that we don't. Snape's always been an unqualified arsehole towards him; I just don't understand why Neville's not jumping at the chance to get rid of him."

Ron shrugged. They'd gone over this same conversation a hundred times, each time they came no closer to understanding why Neville would be so merciful. Although they loathed the idea of their Potions teacher getting away with hurting Neville, they respected their friend's wishes and continued to be silent on the matter. 

"That curse was aimed at me." Ron whispered. 

Harry squeezed Ron's shoulder. 

Ron winced at the pain of knowing he had been Snape's real target and Neville had just intervened. He gazed into Harry's eyes. "Why did he do it? What the hell did I do that was so awful? Okay so I'm not exactly adept at potion making but do I deserve that?"

"It must have been something else. Mistaken identity perhaps."

Ron's eyes narrowed. "It was Malfoy that's what it was! It's all his doing."

Harry nodded; he had to agree there.

"Let's go visit Hagrid before the class begins. I'd like to be forewarned on what particular creature we are handling today."

Ron laughed humourlessly. "Absolutely. Why not? I dread the thought of what he's got in store for us. We can only hope that it devours Malfoy first and then finds itself quite sickened after that meal so as to spare the rest of us." 

Harry gave him a brittle smile before quickly getting up and leaving the hall.

Ron frowned at his friends retreating back, turning to watch as his empty plate winked out of existence. His eyes lifted of their own freewill towards that of the Slytherin table, but found Malfoy was no longer there. Sighing, he rushed out of the hall to catch up with Harry. 

Ron narrowly avoided an encounter with Marcus as he ducked behind a tapestry to take shelter in a hidden cove. It was pitch black behind the heavy wall hanging and he instantly feared the phantom of eight hairy legs exploring his exposed neck. He shivered at the disgusting thought and moved away from the wall and as close to the opening as he dared. Attempting to squash the irrational panic that was slowly building in the pit of his stomach, he deliberately tuned into Marcus as he confronted Harry in the hallway. 

"Why Potter, fancy bumping into the likes of you?"

"Yes, well Marcus, I do happen to go to school here. It's bound to happen sometime." He smirked. 

Marcus smirked back nastily. "Yes you do. Of course that could always change." He added ominously, walking away before Harry could think of a suitable comeback to that blatant threat. 

"Slimy git!" Harry cursed under his breath. "I'm not sure who I loathe more, you or that blonde brat."

"I don't know Harry; I think the votes would be fairly even on both sides, don't you?" Ron grinned, pulling back the tapestry to reveal his hiding place to his amused friend. 

Harry laughed at the sheepish look on his friend's face. "You are such a chicken."

Ron blushed, shrugging. It was true; being the object of Marcus's obsession scared the bejesus out of him. The boy was handsome in a vampire like way. All dark slicked back hair, pale flawless skin and piercing enigmatic eyes. Ron often compared him favourably to the fatal beauty of a certain blonde Slytherin. Except, where Draco was quick witted and cunning, Marcus chose to rely on his talent for looming over his prey, a dangerous glint in his eye. Draco rather preferred bestowing others of what he considered lower ilk, with a wickedly sharp tongue and a disdainful smirk. 

All said and done Ron would have chosen Malfoy's company any day, rather than be trapped in a room with that honeyed voice in his ear. He'd have been fighting off those large hands as they roamed over his skin possessively. At least Malfoy would not have been seen dead touching a Weasley.

As both of them neared Hagrid's hut, they could make out the half giants stooped form as he huddled his large frame into a rickety chair. He sat with his back to the two Gryffindor's, obviously in deep conversation with someone. As they got closer both of them made out the familiar blonde hair and they sped up to intervene. Hagrid always grew somewhat flustered by Draco's nasty quips and they both wished to rescue their gigantic friend from such humiliation. Harry and Ron closed in on the two. Only then did they realize their mistake. 

Draco was laughing at something Hagrid had said and even from where they had stopped in their tracks they could hear the gentle rumbling bellow of Hagrid's answering laugh. 

Harry looked as gob-smacked as Ron felt when they turned to each other with more than a few questions burning in their eyes.

Draco glanced up at that moment and caught the two coming towards him. The Slytherin's eyes flew wide with panic, as he stumbled back away from Hagrid.

Ron noticed that Malfoy's usual poise had deserted him, as he made a feeble stab at insulting his teacher.

"You're an oaf; a joke to this school's established standing in the wizarding world." He hissed.

Hagrid visibly flinched at the words, but soon realized the lack of sting behind their delivery and turned to see what had spooked the young Slytherin so. 

He grinned affectionately on seeing Harry and Ron marching towards them. 

"Why yeh a wee bit early for m'class don'tcha think?" He grinned affably as they came close, sweeping a palm as large as Harry's head to usher the two Gryffindor's into his hut. 

Hagrid was very much aware of the nervous blonde who was feeling a mite trapped, pacing behind him. He didn't invite Draco in, knowing the boy would really let loose if he showed any compassion, especially in front of those two. He'd decided the best course of action was no action. Hagrid had sworn an oath not to tell a soul and he wouldn't betray Draco's trust, not to the headmaster nor to Harry. 

Ron stood stubbornly in the doorway for a moment, glaring at the Slytherin who was desperately trying to appear invisible without actually disappearing. "Oh I don't know. Malfoy got here before we did and he seemed perfectly welcome."

Hagrid growled at Ron's need to squabble immaturely with Draco with no provocation. "Ron yeh know yeh always wil'come in m'humble home. Why every student at 'ogwarts is most wil'come to talk to me win'ever."

Ron flushed pink, feeling appropriately ashamed for acting like such an arse. He ducked into Hagrid's cottage, leaving Draco to brood outside. He sat beside the fire and avoided eye contact by leaning down to scratch along Fang's spine. The dog practically purred under his touch as he grinned, temporarily forgetting about the blonde outside who was taking pleasure in tormenting him. 

Harry watched Hagrid keep himself occupied, pouring them tea in a pitiful attempt to steer clear of any uninvited conversation that might just happen to spring forth. Hagrid wasn't about to volunteer any information on why he was so suddenly chummy with the likes of Draco. Usually the unassuming man wasn't good at keeping secrets. With the right words, Harry was sure Hagrid's resolve would crumble and he could finally get to the bottom of what was going on with the Slytherin. 

Fortunately, luck was on Hagrid's side, and he was called away to Dumbledore's office on urgent business and had only seen fit to return after the entire class had arrived for their lesson. Harry realised anything further said on the matter would just have to wait. 

Draco spent the lesson avoiding any contact with either Ron or Harry, preferring to keep to the perimeters of the class. He had even avoided insulting them, obviously not wanting an excuse for either Gryffindor to hint at his previous activities in front of his other housemates thus having them be suspicious of his every move.

Ron was restless, his thoughts slipping from the task at hand to that of the blonde in the corner. It was only when a set of nasty teeth pierced the fleshy part of his hand did he come back to earth with a snap. 

"Owww," he howled, frantically tearing at the ball of lethal fluff attached to his fist. The little fiend was shredding his skin, burrowing deeper as it gorged itself on his blood. The last thing Ron remembered was the concern that flickered so bizarrely over Malfoy's face as he rushed forward; it was at that moment Ron passed out from the pain.

*************************************************

Harry had spent the remainder of the day at Ron's side in the hospital wing. He left his friend in Madam Pomfrey's more than capable hands, resting with the aid of a sleeping draft. Ron had lost a lot of blood and the monstrous creature had even attacked Hagrid before he snapped the hideous thing in two, prizing it off Ron's mutilated hand. 

Pomfrey as usual was a marvel, healing Ron's savage wounds in a jiffy. She fussed and shooed everyone but him out the door. Like a limpet, Harry had remained faithfully at his best friend's bed-side until hunger drew him away. He could do nothing to assist further and as Madame Pomfrey elaborated, he would be no good to Ron if he fainted from lack of sustenance when the redhead might be most in need of him.

Harry left not long after the dinner bell had sounded. 

He literally bumped into Seamus as he came around the corner; the Irishman had been hoping to meet Harry in just this particular way. 

"Hey." Seamus grinned, his fingers lingering on Harry's chest as he rocked back slightly from the impact, peering up into green weary eyes.

"Hi." Harry breathed, leaning a little into Seamus's body heat without actually touching him. 

Seamus couldn't help the hand that reached up to brush tentatively along his cheek. "You're exhausted, come back to the common room." He tugged at Harry's sleeve. "Is Ron in one piece? He's okay right?" 

Harry nodded absently, letting his eyes close as Seamus' gentle caress feathered over his brow, issuing a sigh at the comforting gesture. Part of him, a large part, wanted to just let Seamus take control and lead him towards his bed, but in the end it was his growling stomach that got its way as the rumble echoed absurdly off the stone walls. 

Seamus laughed, while Harry blushed embarrassingly. They made a detour to the kitchens, Harry's arm snugly around Seamus' waist, while the Irishman's arm slung protectively around his shoulder, a pair of firm lips branding the side of his throat. 

A shadow behind their retreating backs writhed into life and out stepped Marcus Kelgarr like a coiled serpent preparing to attack. The corners of his eyes crinkled with extreme delight, his lips transforming into an oil slick grin that completed an altogether unpleasant expression. He watched in silence as the two, oblivious to his presence, disappeared down a flight of stairs. 

'So, Harry has a thing for the Irishman. How very sweet a couple those two made' Just as well, it would have been difficult to get rid of the wizarding world's saviour at Hogwarts. This way Ron was his for the taking as no other worthy rival now stood in his way. Oh, the things he had planned for the two of them. Marcus licked his lips disturbingly at the thought. He could hardly wait. 

***********************************************************

Harry gasped as he fell through the portrait hole that served as the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Both he and Seamus had visited Ron after having a quick bite to eat only to be told by an irritated Madam Pomfrey to go back to their dorm. 

"Mr. Weasley is to have no more visitors tonight. He is sleeping and I wish for him to remain so. Off with you." She ranted.

Harry had immediately started to argue but was promptly cut off by a sharp glare aimed his way. Seamus dragged him back while the door shut firmly in their faces. 

"The cheek of the woman..." Harry muttered.

"Let it go Harry. She knows what she's doing. You'll see him first thing in the morning"

Harry relented, allowing Seamus to pull him toward the Gryffindor tower. At the entrance they were stalled by the absence of the Fat Lady who was nowhere in sight. 

"Where is she?" Harry scowled at the empty frame.

"No clue." Seamus murmured against Harry's throat, he'd aligned his body directly behind that of 'the boy who lived.' Slipping an arm around his waist, he tugged Harry tight against his chest. With his free hand, he swept those eternally messy locks to the side and frantically mouthed the nape of Harry's neck. 

Harry's eyelids closed, leaning his head minutely back into Seamus' hungry kiss. 

There was a loud clearing of a throat.

Harry's eyes snapped open. "Uh, um... Oh Merlin." He breathed. His mind was a blank as a somewhat amused Fat Lady sat in her usual position as if she'd never left, head tilted in mild interest, waiting patiently for him to give her the password.

Seamus' attention had been drawn by the sudden tenseness of the body in his arms. He lifted his head, grinning cheekily at her just behind Harry's right ear. She was watching him intently as he purred the word "Lascivious!" He bit on that tempting earlobe for emphasis. 

Seamus winked at her. She, in turn, huffing out her disapproval of such a word but allowed them entrance just the same. It was Hermione's fault. She had approved of his choice of password. He had the sneaking suspicion that she was a teeny bit distracted by the notes she had been furiously scribbling in McGonagall's class at the time, but hey...she had said yes to his innocent suggestion.

He gave Harry a tiny shove when the boy still hadn't moved. Seamus laughed when Harry stepped inside and promptly fell over one of the Persian rugs that decorated the common room. Fortunately, no one was about to witness his clumsiness.

Reaching a hand down to Harry, he pulled his friend to his feet. Harry growled at the amusement dancing in Seamus' eyes but did not let go of his hand. Again, Seamus tugged the boy to him and again Harry let himself be swayed. 

They were about to kiss when Professor McGonagall swept in through the portrait door and they jumped apart. 

"Harry, you must go to the Headmaster's office at once. Dumbledore needs to speak to you about something rather urgent." Her brow wrinkled into a frown, certain that she had interrupted some dalliance between the two, although they appeared innocent enough.

"Thank you Professor McGonagall. I'll leave immediately."

She nodded, still watching them both intently. "Very well. I'll walk with you to the entrance." 

Harry's eyes darted to Seamus' before he followed his teacher out of the Gryffindor tower. 

Seamus sighed, annoyed that they had to be interrupted yet again. Turning tail, he stalked up the stairs to the sixth year dorm room. He would wait for Harry's return in _his_ bed. 

The walk from the common room to Dumbledore's office was a silent one, even if Harry did get the feeling that the Professor wanted to ask him something. She never said a thing. 

Upon arrival, she quickly recited the password in a clear and succinct voice. Minerva gave him a warm smile, her bony fingers squeezing his shoulder affectionately as Harry watched the giant stone phoenix rotate to reveal the hidden stairway to the Headmaster's office above. 

"I'll leave you here." 

"Thank you."

She smiled and with a swish of her robes returned the way she came. Harry gulped, turning towards the stairs. He had no idea why, because he adored Dumbledore, but marching up those cold grey slabs of stone to whatever lay in wake above, always gave him the willies. Regardless of how softly you tread, the echo always had the same ominous ring, as if you could never escape no matter how hard you might try.

"Harry, my dear boy, sit will you, have a sherbet lemon?"

Harry declined the sweet but sat in the chair offered. He noticed Fawkes perched in his usual place and smiled a greeting to the beautiful bird. His glorious feathers shone in the soft candlelight as if the flame and the bird were one. Fawkes was preening each golden feather with a wickedly sharp beak. One eye ceaselessly fixed on the two wizards facing off across the desk. 

Dumbledore delayed telling Harry just why he was here and that made Harry very nervous. 

"Please, sir..."

Dumbledore scratched his beard absently before smiling minus his usual twinkle. Harry knew whatever he had to say was not good, not good at all. 

"Harry, I have been given a reliable piece of information from a member of the order that involves you. It seems that Dudley has been arrested by muggles. He attempted to murder his parents last night."

Harry leapt out his chair.

"Never fear Harry, they are quite alright. As a precaution you will stay at Hogwarts over the Christmas break, not at the Weasley's as I know you had planned."

"What? No, he'd never do that, I don't believe it." He shouted his objection, palms clawing at the edge of Dumbledore's desk as he leaned over directing his anger at the old wizard. "It's a lie. You suspect someone? Who is it?"

Albus stared disapprovingly at Harry through his half-moon glasses. 

He needn't have said a word. Harry knew what Dumbledore was thinking. 

"Voldemort!"

"Yes Harry. Unfortunately, I suspect his involvement here. I believe he has used the impressionable boy to destroy your protection with the Dursley's so that you have no choice but to remain at Hogwarts." 

.....................................................................................................................................................................................................................................


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Thanks to anyone I haven't emailed about feedback...always adored, appreciated. It's been awhile but I'm back. LoL. Trying to finish other fics in other fandoms but I haven't given up on this story, not by a long shot.  
  
Jux

* * *

Chapter Sixteen  
  
That night after leaving Dumbledore's office, Harry wasn't to return to his dorm. Instead he spent the night wandering the halls of Hogwarts till he inadvertently ended up on the seventh floor, pacing back and forth until the 'Room of Requirement' revealed itself. Of course it had been a long- time since he'd found himself in need of the rooms services- not since the Umbridge witch had been thrown out of Hogwarts had he even thought of it.  
  
He stood hesitantly in the doorway, peering into the dimly lit room; as usual it appeared to fill his every desire as it beckoned him irresistibly inside. There was a large comfy bed dominating the centre of the room. Candles flickered softly from a small circular table off to one side, the warm scent and the glow from those flames drew him further into the room. He instantly crawled up onto the bed and snuggled into the gorgeously thick blue quilt that lay there. It wasn't long before the room was filled the sound of Harry Potter snoring.

* * *

Seamus Finnigan woke to the cold empty space beside him in bed. He'd waited up for Harry, but he had never showed. Eventually he'd drifted off, pain and ecstasy warring in his heart. At first he'd panicked as to why Harry hadn't come back, worrying that he might have been in trouble and at one point he'd almost gone looking for him. He was jerked back by the possibility that his behaviour may have been misconstrued as a tad possessive, him stalking Harry in the corridors, calling out his name. Not to mention that he was bordering on the melodramatic. He was also angry with Harry for abandoning him and intended to tell him off when he returned. In the end he simply gave up and went to breakfast without waiting for Harry to arrive.

* * *

The great hall was rather empty; most of the students had already gone home for the Christmas break. Only a handful of students remained from each year, fostering a somewhat relaxed atmosphere as most of the houses had decided to ditch old rivalries and sit together for a change. It always delighted Dumbledore to see the children so willing to forgo the competition between the houses and partake in the Christmas cheer. He was only sorry that that same spirit could not last the whole year round.  
  
Ron ate with his usual gusto; he had been hungry since waking from his potion induced sleep early in the morning. Seamus, who was seated beside him, kept glancing back towards the doors in hopes of seeing Harry. Ron rolled his eyes at the increasingly girlish behaviour of his Irish friend.  
  
"He'll be here Seamus. Give the bloke a chance, you aren't half clingy."  
  
Seamus gave him a look and shoved a slither of toast into his mouth. Ron rolled his eyes again at the pout his friend was now wearing, snorting into his orange juice as the door swung open and a first year Slytherin entered the hall. The hopeful look that passed over Seamus's face was priceless only for it to be dashed on the rocks so to speak, when again it wasn't Harry.  
  
Ron shook his head; damn Seamus had it bad for his best buddy. He couldn't quite understand that type of infatuation. He hadn't in fact ever felt like that for anyone, possibly he'd been close with Hermione but even that had waned when he realised he preferred her as a friend.  
  
Helping himself to a fresh glass of juice Ron scanned the breadth of the table; he hadn't found any familiar blonde head amongst them. He guessed Malfoy senior had already come and collected his son. He was probably at the manor being lavished with an array of expensive gifts, not to mention plates piled high of every exquisite food imaginable. What it must be like to live in luxury, to want for nothing. Then Ron was reminded of his mother's delicious cooking, the warmth of her hugs and the pure goodness of just being home for Christmas with his whole family. Malfoy may have everything his cold heart desired, but he'd wager that the boy had none of the love that he was given unconditionally. Gifts were a poor substitute for a lack of affection and Ron would never exchange his poor but loving parents and siblings for one night in Malfoy's shoes.  
  
Harry finally pushed through the doorway and Ron couldn't help but turn to watch Seamus' reaction. The boy tried desperately not to look so eager but he just couldn't quite wipe the silly grin from his face as Harry neared their table. Ron groaned internally 'Merlin, please let me never be this embarrassingly transparent if I ever fall in love.' Ron slid into the empty seat to his right so that Harry had little choice but to sit between them.  
  
"Morning Ron." He yawned, slumping in a kind of boneless sprawl, elbows barely taking the weight of his head. "Went looking for you, Pomfrey said you'd snuck out. She was annoyed you checked out without her consent."  
  
Ron swallowed his mouthful before answering. "Yeah, well I woke up ravenous; the woman must have pumped my stomach or something. I tell you I was being starved. Besides I'm fine, completely healed." He held up the hand that had been bitten, only a thin silvery scar was visible, a reminder of his tussle with that evil ball of fluff.  
  
Harry grinned sleepily at his friend, relieved that he was okay. He'd slept well after agonizing over Dudley but he was still unbelievably tired.  
  
"What happened to you anyway? Where have you been all night?" Ron asked through a mouthful of egg.  
  
Harry blinked; he wasn't ready to tell Ron about his conversation with Dumbledore. He'd never told Ron and Hermione that he'd grown closer to Dudley over the summer and wasn't sure they would understand if he had.  
  
"The Room of Requirement. Pretty much stumbled upon it."  
  
Ron laughed. "Wow. It's been awhile since we've all been there. Hey, what happened with Dumbledore?"  
  
"Seamus mentioned I was called to his office?"  
  
"Yeah," indicating the Irishman on his other side. What the hell was Harry doing? He couldn't just pretend he didn't exist.  
  
"Nothing really, more doom and gloom and of course Voldemort."  
  
"Oh him." Ron shrugged, spooning another mouthful of egg in his mouth.  
  
"Yeah him. He has that bloody annoying way of cropping up around the holiday. Just because no one sent him a Christmas card does that give him a reason to get all upset and start killing again? Anyway I can't come home with you; I'm banished to the Gryffindor tower to have Christmas alone."  
  
"Bugger, well that's totally unfair." Ron scowled, dropping his fork back on the plate. He was stuffed.  
  
"Rules are rules," Harry shrugged, exhausted. Ron knew darn well Harry lived to break them and he would do just that if need be.  
  
"Oi, what do you mean..." Ron hesitated. He could in fact, disclose the name now without feeling like he was cursing himself to some bitter fate. Despite this breakthrough, he found it terrifying. "What's Voldemort up to now?"  
  
Harry pushed his glasses back up his nose, eyes straying from his redheaded friend. "Nothing new, more raids, threats, nothing we haven't all been aware of before."  
  
Ron was almost certain his best friend was leaving out something important.  
  
"Harry..." he began to query.  
  
"Don't. Not yet. I'll tell you when I learn more."  
  
Ron reluctantly complied with Harry's wishes; he was far from overjoyed with the part about 'not knowing.' He nodded his okay just the same.  
  
"And what about...?"  
  
Ron's eyes flickered purposely from Harry to Seamus and back again. Harry grimaced, conscious of just what Ron was insinuating.  
  
He knew Seamus was there; he hadn't exactly forgotten about yesterday he'd just put those feelings aside after Dumbledore told him about the Dursley's. Seamus was a pleasant diversion from the demons that were constantly nipping at his heel. Harry just wasn't sure, so soon after Ron's rejection.  
  
Seamus was chatting with some Ravenclaw girl, a sixth year like himself. Harry was instantly jealous that his friend's thoughts were elsewhere, especially as it seemed he was favouring the nymphet with the very peak of his impeccable charm. His fingers rested innocently on the girl's arm which definitely had her undivided attention.  
  
Okay...Harry was sure. How dare she make a play for what was his, he wanted to scratch her eyes out for even trying to claim him.  
  
Seamus was peeved, no he was pissed off. Harry had walked into the hall after spending the night, who knows where and then proceeded to ignore him in the hopes of chatting up Ron. Weasley wasn't interested, was he ever going to get that through his skull? He had every right to ignore Harry in kind. Okay, so it was a little juvenile to be chatting up a girl when it was obvious to everyone that it was all a ruse. Still the jilted potential lover in him was feeling childish right at this moment and it was all he could do to attempt saving face.  
  
Sarah was a darling; she was frantically trying to get him interested in chatting about Quidditch, although it was clear she had no such interest herself in the subject. She must have thought boys liked to talk about sports, little did she know he really wasn't that interested in the game. Not really...unless you counted ogling all those sweaty players a reason to watch Quidditch. Yeah, well that was a given.  
  
Harry almost felt the need to bitch slap someone. Naturally, he resisted. The clincher was when she placed her hand over the top of Seamus'. No one touched what was his and lived to tell the tale.  
  
"Seamus?"  
  
The boy jolted at the sound of his name being hissed in his ear. It wasn't like he had forgotten Harry was there. No, the heat of that body beside him had kept him painfully aware of his presence. It was just Sarah; he wasn't into her- not like that anyway. It was just she'd spun this alluring web over him, a female trap of soft skin, doe eyes and a heady intoxicating perfume and he had been kinda mesmerized by from the moment she had sat down beside him.  
  
He turned his head to look at Harry; he still felt a little dazed and wondered how she'd rendered him immobile. Perhaps it was a love spell because he had never felt this way about any woman before. It was unnerving.  
  
"Yes Harry, what is it?" he murmured, swaying between them.  
  
Harry narrowed his eyes at his prey; Sarah shrank back at the murderous gleam, her eyes wide with shock. Without taking his eyes off her, Harry placed both hands on either side of Seamus' head and coaxed his startled face closer to his own.  
  
Seamus swallowed with difficulty at the unexpected proximity, but let himself be guided by those warm hands. What was Harry doing?  
  
"Just thought I'd steal a good morning kiss," he whispered sensuously across those tempting lips, brushing his own teasingly across Seamus' mouth.  
  
Ron watched in amazement as Harry continued to openly kiss Seamus in front of the school, which included the entire Hogwarts faculty. A collective silence fell over the room as everyone turned to watch the two make out over the breakfast table.  
  
Harry grinned into the kiss, aware of the many eyes fixed upon the two of them. If anything, he made more of a show by deepening the kiss and practically climbing into Seamus' lap. This had the unfortunate result of making the boy groan as Harry's hard body pressed into his in all the right places.  
  
Seamus jerked his head back, turning beet red as he buried his face in Harry's hair in a pathetic attempt at vanishing.  
  
Harry wound his arms tighter around Seamus' back; he smirked as he held onto his man, his eyes piercing into Sarah's.  
  
'Mine' he mouthed at her.

* * *

Ron and Ginny got off the train at platform nine and three quarters. Charlie was waiting for them; Ron instantly noticed the tension in his brother's hug. It was so good to see him he let it go for now, knowing that he'd have plenty of time to grill him on what was wrong later.  
  
Ginny had squealed upon seeing Charlie, dropping her bags she'd run to be engulfed in one of his bear hugs. There were definitely advantages to being the only girl in the Weasley clan and one of them was ditching her belongings so that Ron ended up lugging them to the car. Huffing with the strain of all that extra weight, he was relieved when Charlie came to his rescue and took possession of her luggage.  
  
Bags safely in the boot, Ron collapsed in the back seat letting Ginny monopolize the conversation. She was in the middle of some long complicated expose on the latest Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, Mr Fellagray, when Ron noticed Charlie looking at him with concern through the rear vision mirror.  
  
Ron frowned at his brothers behaviour, Charlie's eyes quickly returned to the road at being caught staring. 'Blast! He'd hoped to avoid telling Ron the truth; honestly it was unfair letting him walk in there without any knowledge at all, without at least being prepared. Of course he'd promised his Dad he wouldn't interfere; it wasn't his story to tell.  
  
Charlie eased the old car into the driveway outside the burrow. Without a backwards glance at his youngest brother, he pushed open the driver's side door, letting it clunk shut behind him. Ignoring the puzzled expression he saw on Ron's face out of the corner of his eye, he proceeded to haul the luggage out from the boot. Part of him thought that it was best they just get this over with, while a larger part wanted to pile his two youngest siblings back in the car, turn around and take them straight back to Hogwarts.  
  
But he couldn't, they had a right to know.  
  
Ginny was drinking in the vision of the cottage; covered in a cloak of untouched snow, quite breathtaking in its exquisite whiteness. She was home and with thankful sigh, she bounded on ahead, Ginny couldn't wait to be back in her room, hugs from mum and dad and amazing tales from her brothers for they all led such thrilling lives. Ginny couldn't wait till she graduated.  
  
Charlie almost called out for her to stop, but then thought better of it. If anyone needed him at this moment it would be Ron, he had the most to lose, and he only wished he had the words to control what was going to happen next.  
  
A hand landed on Charlie's shoulder, he couldn't help but turn towards his brother, waiting for the question.  
  
"What's going on?" Ron demanded, he was well in truly sick of the looks, he needed some answers.  
  
Just then a scream came from inside the house and they both turned immediately towards the cottage. Charlie swallowed hard. "Here we go." He whispered to himself.  
  
Ron was at the door before he'd even registered his brother's departure.  
  
"Ron, wait for me?" he hollered, dropping the bags in his need to get to his brothers side.  
  
Ron wasn't listening as he threw the door open, it slammed against the wall behind and rattled the dishes in the cupboard nearby.  
  
His whole family was gathered around the kitchen table, all seated apart from Ginny who was standing gaping at their visitor.  
  
_Him_.  
  
He appeared scared, perhaps because he was surrounded by the Weasley clan and his sister was glaring daggers at him, but as soon as his eyes connected with Ron's, his back straightened, the old patented Malfoy sneer fell firmly in place and he ducked under the comforting arm of Mrs. Weasley to face him.  
  
Ron growled, pulled back his arm and punched the blonde in the nose.  
  
Malfoy lost his balance and fell backwards on his arse just as Charlie came through the open doorway.  
  
"Damn... that went well I see?"  
  
.................................................................................................................................................................................................. 


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Chapter Seventeen  
**  
Draco's gaze narrowed to the only person that was worth staring at in the room, the one who had his undivided attention. All became hopelessly blurred; voices that were only a moment ago raised in outrage were all but extinguished in the presence of his enemy. The world around him had been effectively silenced so that the only thing that remained in sharp Technicolor focus was the best friend of the boy he despised over all others.  
  
Ron Weasley.  
  
Malfoy had yet to move from his position on the floor, the very spot where he had fallen after being punched by said Weasley. Hell, he knew he was surrounded by the whole Weasley clan. He wasn't exactly pleased to be there, but they meant nothing to him compared to the boy who stood poised before him. This was the only Weasley who had the power to make his blood boil. The veins in his neck throbbed with the need to bruise, to punish, and to get back at the redhead any damn way possible.  
  
Ron loomed boldly over the defeated Malfoy. How he cherished this change of position. Normally it was him that had the rotten luck. Then again Malfoy was without the protection of Goon One and Goon Two, so perhaps that had a lot to do with his victory. He'd finally gotten one over the nasty worm and it felt darn good to put him in his place, at his feet no less.  
  
Ron's somewhat lingering gaze was interrupted by the disturbingly erotic implication of his imagination. Draco at his mercy and on his knees before him. He had to admit he kinda liked the thought of that. The curse of possessing such a perverted mind, however, made him feel quite ill in respect to Malfoy.  
  
Draco watched as the blush crept up Ron's neck and suffused his cheeks. He practically gleamed at the redhead as he leant back, neck arched, his arms supporting his weight. A trickle of blood spilled over his lip and instead of bringing up his hand to wipe it away, Draco swiped lazily at the droplet with his tongue. He froze when he caught Weasley watching him intently, those eyes lost in the movement.  
  
Ron blinked. Fuck! He then started to panic. "What are _you_ doing here, Malfoy?" he demanded somewhat raggedly.  
  
Draco grinned; Ron's reaction was... intriguing and he intended to file it away for further perusal when all of this was over with. Instead, he arched an eyebrow in remark to Weasley's question.  
  
Ron growled, turning his back on the Slytherin and facing his elder brother.  
  
"Charlie, why is he here? What the hell is a Malfoy doing in our house?" Ron gritted his teeth; he was shamefully close to losing it altogether and in front of his entire family. Charlie flinched at the pain evident in every tensed muscle; all he wanted to do was hug his youngest brother because he knew it would undoubtedly get worse.  
  
Molly subsequently rocketed out of her chair by the distress in her son's voice; she couldn't tolerate seeing her baby boy in such pain.  
  
Arthur reached for his wife, patting her hand he guided her back down into the chair. She gave him a half smile in return and placed her small hand over his before turning back to her son.  
  
"Dear, if you sit down your father could tell you... and your sister naturally, why Draco is here with us."  
  
Ron took a steadying breath, nodding his head he side-stepped Malfoy without giving him a second glance. Pulling up a chair next to George, Ron sat, arms crossed firmly over his chest.  
  
"Okay mum." He murmured, careful only to look at his parents.  
  
A flicker of a smile ghosted across Molly's face before she turned to her husband.  
  
"Arthur?"  
  
"Yes, of course." He coughed, making room for his daughter to sit beside him.  
  
Ginny sat very still, her hands clasped in her lap. Bill smiled at her from across the table; she tried to smile back at him but failed miserably.  
  
"While I tell Ron and Ginny the story, I'd appreciate if the rest of you would keep your comments to the end."  
  
A series of grunts echoed around the room. Draco almost laughed at the absurdity of it, but he quickly sobered, conscious it was _his _secret's Mr Weasley was about to spill, and to one of the golden trio in particular. As soon as this good ol' natter was over with, Ron would be sending his ruddy owl off to Potter and Granger to reveal every gory detail. It would only be a matter of time before they kicked him out of Slytherin and possibly even the school.  
  
"Alright then, if you are all settled? Last week Narcissa Malfoy came to the Burr..."  
  
"No!" screamed Draco, leaping up from the floor and smashing his fist down on the table. "If anyone is going to tell this story, it'll be me."  
  
Sniggers rose up from around the room; he glared murderously at the whole bloody lot of them. "You think this is funny? You're worthless, the lot of you. Everyone simpers on how understanding your family is...it's all a sodding lie."  
  
Both the twins turned to each other in mock dismay before bursting into a fit of laughter. "You don't deserve anyone's sympathy you little twat. You've been nothing but a nasty cretin from the day you could open your gob. How dare you!"  
  
"That's quite enough!" Arthur roared, as he shot to his feet. He pointed at the twins.  
  
"Besides Malfoy, what would you know about 'understanding'? Our parents have taken you in, they didn't even hesitate when your mum..."  
  
"You two will both go upstairs this instant." Arthur seethed. They still hadn't moved a moment later. "Did you hear what I said?" he roared.  
  
"Yes father." they chorused, eyes downcast. "We just wanted to see Ronnikins give Malfoy one more smack on the mouth."  
  
"Out!" Molly hissed, "Both of you."  
  
George and Fred trudged up the stairs. They were bummed they'd miss out on the guaranteed clash between their brother and the snotty git, but to get on the wrong side of their parents wasn't worth the hassle.  
  
Charlie took George's seat at the table. Ron made damn sure to ignore him; he wasn't exactly pleased that Charlie hadn't warned him about Malfoy before they'd arrived at the Burrow, and he certainly wasn't sure he wanted to know what was going on now that he was here.  
  
Malfoy paced in front of them. Molly attempted to get him to sit but he snubbed her request, shrinking away from her touch as if it repulsed him.  
  
Ron watched the hurt flicker over his mother's face and he wanted nothing more than too break Malfoy all over again. Why were his parents letting this poor excuse for a human being into their home?  
  
"Get on with it Malfoy. I for one have better things to do then listen to you prattle on just because you love the sound of your own voice."  
  
Malfoy halted in mid-step and gave Ron a withering look.  
  
"Patience Ron. I'm composing myself."  
  
Ron snorted, rolling his eyes at the friggin' drama queen in his living room.  
  
"Making up some preposterous story in order to finesse your way into my family, more like it," he grumbled to himself.  
  
Draco cleared his throat, ignoring Ron's flawed intuition.  
  
"In the summer break before the school year started, my mother told me I wasn't her son, not her biological child anyhow." Draco paused to glance over at Ron, the redheads brow was furrowed, his eyes flashed with a kind of wariness.  
  
"I was... devastated; I had no idea. It's taken me awhile to accept it and I'm still coming to terms with the truth..."  
  
"This explains some of your weird behaviour since the beginning of the year." Ron interrupted.  
  
Draco nodded, exhaling shakily. "My parents had been married for nearly three years and in all that time my mother had failed to produce an heir for the Malfoy line, much to _his _considerable fury." Draco hesitated, watching a log in the fireplace collapse as it turned to ash. He moved closer and held out his hands towards the flames, hoping to steal some of its warmth.  
  
"He was never around, my father, so deeply entrenched in the Dark Lord's circle, that when two stupid muggles wandered onto the property and took up residence in one of the abandoned gazebos on the fringe of the estate. He had no idea. She was aware of them; all sorts of alarms are breached when anyone tries to enter the Malfoy estate without permission. So instead of alerting him to the possible danger, she insanely let them stay. My mother told me it amused her to watch them and their simple life, so unlike her own. You see she was rather starved for company, being alone in the mansion for months at a time without father. The muggles didn't know she was spying on them, well not at first."  
  
Draco finally sat down on the floor, cross-legged in front of the fireplace, back turned to his audience.  
  
"The woman, she was heavily pregnant and in need of the kind of care my mother could never have given her. But my mother fancied herself as having somewhat of a flair for anything she put her mind too. Unfortunately, my father told me when I was little of how he consistently had to replace plants and animals that she had forgotten about and had died from her so called 'care'."  
  
"My mother, yes, and I can't even claim that...anymore, can I?" Draco whispered to himself, before falling silent.  
  
Ron was angry he was so riveted by the boy huddled next to his open fire; he appeared so small next to those deadly flames. They seemed to lick at his hair, at the hem of his robes as if they could taste him. How anyone could bare to be that close to the insufferable heat, was beyond him. Not to flinch at every fiendish crackle as yet another log was pulverized under the influence of that blaze. He had to remind himself that this was a Slytherin and none of them were exactly known for feeling anything, especially a cold-hearted descendant of the Malfoy clan.  
  
Ron caught Charlie staring at him and glared back at his brother.  
  
"What?" He muttered, embarrassed that he'd been caught staring again.  
  
Charlie shook his head at his youngest brother. Ron recognized the emotion before his brother turned away, but who was he grieving for?  
  
Malfoy?  
  
Without warning Draco recovered from whatever depression had settled upon him, shaking off the inertia like water he continued.  
  
"Mother took the woman into the main house, kept her like a treasured pet. They had tea parties, and even attempted to knit such muggle things as booties. The man was not so easily taken in and was forever cautious of her motives, although appreciative of her kindness. He stayed close to his pregnant wife up until the night she went into labour."  
  
A branch fizzled in the fireplace. A hail of sparks rocketed out of the grate, a few landed on Draco's immaculate robes. He didn't even attempt to brush them off. Ron thought perhaps he wanted them, encouraged them even, to do their worst.  
  
"He panicked when my mother said there was no need for a doctor. Lucius and his impeccable timing, apparated in the middle of the labour, promptly assessed the situation and took control. House elves that had been ordered to stay hidden from the muggles were summoned to assist in the birth. The man was horrified, these skinny creatures with the huge ears and enormous features poking at his wife while she lay helpless. He flew into a rage but a flick of Lucius' wand fixed that. It was only because the baby's head started to crown at that precise moment, which saved the man's life. Mother said she wasn't sure if he escaped or got lost on the estate somewhere and died. All they knew is he was never found."  
  
Ron listened in silence; he wasn't sure how he was supposed to react to all of this.  
  
"After I was born and lay shivering in Lucius' palm, all hell broke loose. He was instantly blinded by the woman's blonde hair, much like his own and he quickly saw the chance to redeem the family name and finally have an heir. She pleaded with him to let her hold her child. She was shrieking, hysterical, her hands outstretched to hold me and instead he ended her life."  
  
Ron refused to listen to any more of this.  
  
"You expect us to sit here and listen, to believe this...this hogwash. I know you Malfoy, don't think I don't. I've had first hand knowledge of your lies, your deceit. This has to be your best performance yet."  
  
Draco rushed to his feet and stood over Ron, indignant that he was being challenged.  
  
"I'm not lying." He snarled, furious.  
  
"Oh purrlease, every word you've uttered is ludicrous." Ron sneered back at being faced with those stormy eyes. He got to his own feet and continued the pitiful staring match with the Slytherin.  
  
"It's all true...Ron." Draco countered; they were almost nose to nose.  
  
"Rubbish! Basically, what you are saying is that your parents are muggles? If so, how can you possibly be enrolled at Hogwarts?"  
  
"I was getting to that."  
  
Molly felt the need to intervene. "Please Ron, let him finish?"  
  
Ron turned on his mother. "How could you?" he stopped. "Fine!" but he was done with being seated. If Malfoy insisted on continuing this charade then he could golly well deal with him breathing down his neck.  
  
Draco watched the exchange between mother and son; he found that he was quite jealous of their closeness. Ron may be pissed right now, but he still obviously worshipped her. The jury was still out on how he felt about Narcissa, the woman he had always known as his mother only to find she wasn't even related to him.  
  
"As soon as Lucius disposed of the woman's body he took me to Voldemort. He swore his undying allegiance to _that_ man and he in return gave him a son to be proud of that day. He changed me from a muggle child into a wizard using some of the darkest magic imaginable. So dark in fact that it's mark is scorched upon Lucius' soul, as well as my own. I am his property and when I come of age I will be called to fulfil my destiny, as was pledged that goddamn day."  
  
Draco fell silent; his eyes never wavered from Ron's. There was no icy sneer upon his lips; there was no emotion left, for he felt drained of any such burden.  
  
Ron was struck mute, thrown by Draco's words. He wasn't certain he was to be believed. It would be just like a Malfoy to bamboozle them with a tall tale and then laugh hysterically on how simple the Weasley family was. How easy they could all be fooled. How pathetically naïve, unsophisticated, deficient, irksome...  
  
Ron had never felt so mixed up about anything before. Goddamn Malfoy for once again taking pride of place in his world as _the_ enigma. He still hated him though. A life times worth of abuse could never be forgiven so lightly, if ever.  
  
He hadn't realized he'd been staring at Draco for the past few minutes until Charlie's hand settled lightly on his shoulder. Ron blinked over at his brother until the fog receded from around his brain and he could move away from the source of his puzzlement.  
  
Draco watched as Ron walked away from him, turned from him without saying a word and fled out the same door he'd come in not long ago.  
  
Once outside, Ron felt he could suddenly breathe again. He took large gulps of bitterly cold air into his lungs; it seemed to stabilize the confusing thoughts spinning in his head. He could clearly make out his footprints in the snow, the ones that led from the family car to the house. If only he had the power to retrace those steps so that he could remain blissfully ignorant of everything Malfoy had just told him.  
  
............................................................................ .................................................................................................................... 


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Thank you to all those wonderful people who have reviewed, I adore you, always. Sorry about the delay in writing but ... I started a Ron/Draco list and archive, so I hope i'm forgiven because at least its R/D related.

I'm pimping my site...hehehe. Oh and this chapter is extra long for all of you. damn that came out just so perverted

Jux

Here we go...

Chapter Eighteen

Unlike her brother, Ginny had remained composed during Malfoy's entirely over-blown speech. It wasn't that she didn't want to utter something decidedly nasty back to the boy; she just knew her place as the only girl in the family was the mature one. After Ron's sudden departure, it seemed the tension in the air dissipated and everyone was free to leave, go about their business.

Draco had not been approached and remained close to the fireside, his attention fixed anywhere but here she guessed. Ginny had no wish to disturb him and instead hovered beside her mother who was keeping herself busy by planning a lavish dinner.

Why she was even bothering, Ginny had no idea. It wasn't like Draco would be impressed with any of her efforts. He may not _be_ a Malfoy in blood but he was one- hundred percent Malfoy in attitude. Lucius was a persuasive man and she knew that for a fact. She'd had a taste of what that was like, being the puppet of someone who basically dominated you. Tom Riddle had been her master and Ginny felt a twinge of pity for a fellow victim. What it must feel like to have the one person you held above all others topple off their impossibly high pedestal.

Her eldest brother, Bill, sat in conference with Father; they spoke in hushed tones. Ginny assumed it was Ministry business and her presence would not be welcome. She remained by her mother's side, continuing to survey the room.

Charlie was the only one who eventually dared to capture Draco's eyes with his own. A look passed between them and it was Draco who turned away first. Without a word he fled upstairs.

Molly gave her son a forced smile. He had tried to get through to the boy but the Malfoy family was so excruciatingly obstinate. They both jumped when a door could be heard slamming above them.

Ginny snorted to herself. Oh yes, it seemed we were all going to be treated to one of those infamous Malfoy hissy fits. She held her breath waiting for it...

Less than a minute later Ginny was rewarded. She almost cheered at her brilliant foresight when a series of crashes could be heard upstairs. Trelawney would have been proud of her Divination skills. She hid a grin when Draco started to stomp around noisily above like some petulant child. Ginny bit her lip when it sounded like he was kicking at the poor defenceless furniture. Her mother looked aghast at the rumpus going on in her house, especially by one who was essentially a guest.

Ginny rather hoped it wouldn't be long before Ron returned from his little sulk. Her brother could be such diva sometimes; a lot like Draco come to think. Isn't that strange. She'd never thought of him and Malfoy as having anything in common.

'Come on Ron, get your fanny back inside. Hell, it's _your_ room he's trashing!'

* * *

Harry sat in one of the over-stuffed couches that were scattered around the common room's fireplace. His legs were tucked firmly under his bottom, one arm stretched out along the length of the back, while his nails clawed into a threadbare patch of upholstery. 

Neville had confided in him earlier that Professor Snape had been imprisoned in his chambers. He'd been stripped of his Potions ingredients along with his wand and forced to endure in-house psych tests from St. Mungo's finest.

Harry hadn't been surprised. Even if someone hadn't squealed about that day on the Quidditch pitch, the headmaster would have worked it out eventually. Dumbledore may come across as a cryptic old bugger, - seemingly quite 'mad as a hatter' when you met him in person, - but he was no fool. Harry felt confident that the wizard had known about the incident, even before Snape did.

His teacher was damn lucky he hadn't been thrown in Azkaban for placing an Unforgivable on a student. Truth was Professor Snape was the least of his worries; he had it coming anyway, the repugnant, hateful brute. No, it was his cousin Dudley that consumed his thoughts. Harry refused to believe that the boy would follow anyone willingly, least of all Voldemort. There must have been some serious mojo cast on Dudley to have him try to murder his parents and he needed to find out why.

Harry had confided in his cousin over the summer and Dudley had been eager to listen to him in return. His cousin had started to rebel against his parents warped ideals over the last year and had been mailing Harry letters almost every week since school began. He couldn't even take credit for his cousin's transformation. An art teacher at Dudley's school had made quite the impression on the young man, much to Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's bitter disgust. As a result of these conversations, he'd opened up to the possibilities of what his parents would have labelled as outside the boundaries of normality, i.e. the wizarding world at large being one of them.

Dudley, unfortunately, was most definitely a Muggle and would never truly have a place in Harry's world. That hadn't stopped him from embracing those principles every good wizard strives for just the same.

This summer had been the first in Harry's entire life with the Dursley's that he could honestly say he enjoyed. Turned out once he got through that tough exterior, his cousin was a decent bloke and one he was proud to be related to.

Harry realized that Dumbledore expected him to obey his wishes and stay at Hogwarts, but he couldn't, not with Dudley out there alone. His cousin knew nothing of the viciousness of Voldemort's court. The Death Eaters were not individuals Harry ever wanted anywhere near Dudley. Besides, his cousin had no means to protect himself from them.

Unfolding himself from the recesses of the couch, Harry crept upstairs into the sixth year dorms. Rifling through his trunk, he came across his invisibility cloak and the Marauders map. Fetching his broom, he exited the dorms once more and headed out of Gryffindor tower.

Luckily the Fat Lady was snoring in her portrait so he didn't have to endure a thorough scolding for venturing out in the Hogwarts corridors past midnight. Usually he was smart enough to cover himself in the invisibility cloak before leaving the common room, but he'd already stepped outside before he could correct his blunder.

Making sure he was out of hearing distance from any nosey paintings, he carefully opened the empty parchment.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." He whispered. The map sprung to life and just in time too. Two names appeared on the same corridor in which he was standing. Harry barely had time to whisper "Mischief managed" before throwing the invisibility cloak over his head and flattening his body against the wall.

A minute later Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley came into view. He knew if Hermione found out he was there, she would not understand his disregard of the school's rules. It wasn't like she hadn't flouted a few of them herself in the past; it was just that now in their sixth year she had begun to get seriously freakish about anything extra- curricular related. Also, Hermione had become mysterious as to her whereabouts of late and often it would be days till anyone saw her at all. Harry was almost convinced she had a new beau that he and Ron would not approve of and that's why she was acting so distant toward them. In any case Harry didn't feel the same closeness, the same desire to share his secrets that he had in the past five years. He simply couldn't explain his wariness towards her.

Harry watched as Hermione hesitated. He could have sworn she sensed him but of course that was impossible. Perhaps her 'pause' had another meaning, maybe someone else was coming. Damn, he wished he hadn't deactivated the map so that he could check for himself.

Before he could thoroughly agonize over the possibility of Professor Dumbledore finding him cowering in the corner, they were gone! The soft click of the portrait as it locked in place the only reminder that anyone had been in the hall other than himself.

Harry stood there for a further ten minutes or so waiting for someone else to show, but no one came. Easing the invisible cloak from over his head, he felt enough time had lapsed that if Dumbledore or another staff member were prowling the hallways, they would have at least showed themselves by now. Harry let the cloak rest on his shoulders as he quickly opened the map to settle the matter. Convinced that he was alone, Harry folded up the map and placed it back in the pocket of his robes.

Seconds later he meandered past the Gryffindor tower entrance with his cloak shrouding him from view. He stopped, staring at the doorway and the empty frame. It seemed the Fat Lady had gone wandering, which was unlike her because she rarely left her post.

Harry rationalized that she must be off visiting while all her charges were asleep in their beds. With a resigned sigh he made his way down the stairs.

'Hang on.'

He swung back to face the door somewhat confused.

'Ginny!'

'Didn't she go home with Ron? What on earth was she doing _back_ here?'

Harry clapped a hand over his mouth, petrified he'd spoken aloud. Peeking around the corner, he could see no one, - neither Mrs Norris nor Filch - lurking nearby ready to nab him. He shook his head, annoyed at himself. He was flamin'cracked lately, scared of his own bloody shadow.

Did Ginny come back here for some reason? It's just he had been told it was essential that both Ron and his sister be home for the Christmas break, family meeting or the like. Harry hoped everything was alright at the Burrow. He'd been rather hurt when he was told he couldn't spend the break with the Weasley's. Harry shrugged. He'd just have to ask her when he got back; he had to find Dudley tonight.

He started to move down the stairs again, when his brow furrowed and he halted mid-step.

'Had they been holding hands?'

* * *

Ron kicked at the log, the one they left near the front door to be either an impromptu doorstop or something to wipe your feet on. He'd been leaning against the side of the house, peeping in the kitchen window to glance at Malfoy standing near the fire while his family went about their business. 

He focussed solely on the blond as his brother Charlie caught Malfoy's attention and then watched as the Slytherin stormed upstairs. It was then that he had started to kick at said log.

Malfoy was an arse. Ron had no idea why Mrs. Malfoy would come to his parents and dump her son on them. There simply had to be a reason why she would do that, something his parents weren't telling them. Hell, Dad hated Lucius; then again maybe _that_ was the reason. Perhaps his father wanted to get his own back on Malfoy senior, although that seemed a little extreme, not to mention childish and his father wasn't known for being either.

Blast, he really hated this. Having Malfoy here instead of Harry, it just wasn't fair. His parents might except that the Slytherin had changed, but he knew better. Malfoy was still an uptight mummy's boy... a hideous snob and the worst kind of bully. We weren't talking about a fluffy bunny here folks. Draco Malfoy is one vile minded git and he had taken up residence in _his_ home.

How long was he going to be staying with them anyway?

Ron thought Christmas without Harry was going to be miserable but now it was guaranteed to be pure torture with Malfoy as his overseer.

Malfoy couldn't stand to be breathing the same air as a lowly Weasley. Imagine what he's going to be like living with the whole bloody lot of us; he'll be impossible.

Ron gave the log one more malicious kick as he pushed off from the side of the house. He lunged at the door while shaking the snowflakes from his hair. Stepping over the threshold and into the warmth he immediately made his way over to his father.

Why is Malfoy here of all the places he could be living? Surely Mrs. Malfoy must have loads of relatives she could have passed the boy off to, so why come to 'The Burrow' then?

Ron was about to interrupt in his Dad's conversation with his eldest brother when he stalled, his mouth gaping absurdly. He had just been about to ask those crucial questions, when they obliterated from his thoughts.

"What the...who's that?" he stared up at the ceiling, before looking at all of them for confirmation.

His father's expression was deliberately blank. His sister looked like she trying desperately not to laugh but it was his mother who gave it away as she visibly flinched at his innocent question.

"Bloody hell, Malfoy..." He howled, rushing for the stairs.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley you will refrain from using such vulgar language in this house."

"Sorry mum." He wrenched out grudgingly, taking the steps two at a time.

Molly tugged at her apron strings, her fingers fumbling with the knots as she shook uncontrollably. Eventually, she pressed the soiled material into Ginny's hand as she too started for the stairs. Arthur intercepted her before she could follow her son. Pulling his wife into his arms, he whispered in her ear "Let them be, honey."

"Arthur, you know I can't just let him go up there and assault a guest, even if he is a Malfoy." She struggled to get out of his fierce grip.

Mr Weasley loosened his hold on her, although he still held her hands firmly as she stepped out of his embrace.

"I know dear, but Ron has to fight his own battles. Both of them are old enough to work out their inherent problems. Theirs is a conflict that was bound to happen and something we as parents cannot interfere in."

Molly looked doubtful.

"Like my past with Lucius, Ron has his connection with Draco to deal with. Don't you prefer that they have these clashes under our roof, rather then be subjected to possible expulsion at Hogwarts?"

Molly could not argue with such reason, her husband was right of course. Still, she couldn't help but worry at what was ahead for the two if they failed to come to some kind of an understanding.

Ron burst into his bedroom; he immediately spotted the blond head bent over one his chest of draws, tossing _his_ clothes all over the floor. Malfoy was muttering to himself, some obnoxious little critique on his taste in clothing. Ron didn't even hesitate as he clamped both hands down on Draco's shoulders and shoved him backwards.

"You're nuts! You've clearly gone bonkers!" Ron screamed, taking in the mess that was his room. His precious Chudley Cannon posters were in tatters and his books were lying in a jumbled heap on the carpet. It appeared as if they had been hurled at the wall, their spines broken and pages half torn out. Even the sheets on his bed had been dragged across the floor, his bedposts scuffed as if someone had been kicking at them.

His fingers clawed viciously into Malfoy's fragile looking jumper. Balling the soft material into his fist, he jerked the boy towards him, growling furiously into the git's face.

Draco scrunched up his nose in disgust at the spittle being sprayed onto his cheek, he retaliated by kicking out with his boots at Ron's vulnerable legs.

Ron yowled as those lethal heels crunched into his bones. He limped out of Malfoy's reach and picked up Hermione's last Christmas present, a hefty tome which he proceeded to smack the surprised blond with.

"I hate you, do you hear me?"

Draco was too busy dodging a combustible redhead to stop and answer him.

"You're insane, and I'm quite convinced that my parents have gone soft in the head because they agreed to let you into _our_ home."

Draco sneered at Weasley, flinging anything that he could find at the enraged boy before him. Ron ducked as a flying missile whistled by his ear, one of his art pencils, a black beauty and his favourite instrument.

While Ron was distracted, Draco launched himself at the boy. He snatched a handful of that vibrant hair and tugged sharply to the right.

Ron yelped, stumbling at the impromptu assault, his arms flailing uselessly as he tried to get a hold of him, the slippery bugger. Draco laughed, taunting him as he easily slipped out of Ron's grasp. With a hand twisted into his thick hair, he could tug Ron anywhere he damn well chose.

Eventually, Ron spied his chance and backed the entirely too smug boy into a corner. Running at him full tilt, he forced Draco and himself across the room to end up sprawled over the spare bed.

Malfoy had the wind knocked out of him, as Ron rubbed soothingly at what he wouldn't be surprised was a bald patch on the left side of his head. It was at that moment that he discovered the oddity.

Without actually getting off of the blond, he lifted his head and glanced around the room. What he noticed, did not sit well with him- no, not one little bit. He cursed under his breath at his failure to notice such important details.

The spare bed had been made up neatly opposite his own. Not a speck of the wreck that had been his belongings was touching it.

There was a strange chest at the foot of that same bed, equally as immaculate and untouched.

Ron shook his head vehemently, scrambling off that treacherously warm body under his own. .

"No! No way! You're not sleeping in here with me."

Draco propped himself up on his elbows as he rolled his eyes dramatically. He adored the delicious expression of horror that had suddenly dawned on Ron's face. For an instant there he could have sworn that Weasley's rejection had caused a stab of what he could only guess was annoyance...because it bloody well wasn't hurt. Not goddamn likely.

"Well, apparently I am." He spat.

Ron started to pick through the carnage, ignoring Malfoy in the process completely.

"What? You think I like this anymore then you do?" he hissed, incensed that Weasley had switched, becoming so utterly calm and continuing to ignore him to boot.

How dare you, you ginger-headed nonce!

Ron calmly placed the books into some kind of a rough order back on the shelf. He took his sweet time about it too. He even considered taking a page from his anal-retentive brother Percy and sort through them alphabetically. That would have really pissed Malfoy off, but maybe that was a tad too cruel. Then again it was Malfoy...now would '_21 Ways to Keep your House Elf Happy and Productive_' be under 'T' or would it have a category all its own, being that it starts with a number in all...

Meanwhile, Draco was silently fuming, glaring huge motherfucking holes into the back of Ron's head, or so he hoped. The lanky prick was ignoring him. Hell, he had been deliberately forgotten about, like his presence meant less than nothing. Malfoys were never, NEVER passed over and especially for no ruddy book. Glancing around the room, he searched for something to bring Weasley's attention zeroing back to where it belonged, on him.

His eyes narrowed as he caught a glimpse of movement on Ron's bedside table. Oh how precious, he had a photo of his two widdle friends and himself, right there next to his bed. Draco couldn't resist siding up to the table and snatching up the picture between his long manicured fingers. The frame was so delicate and obviously in need of tossing, he was quite disgusted even to be touching it.

Ron couldn't stand it any longer, ignoring Malfoy was hard work and he really couldn't be sure that the Slytherin would even be affected by his deliberate shunning. He might even prefer that his roommate was silent. Even worse, with his back turned, Ron had no idea what the blond was up too. He could be pawing through his things again, looking for something to blackmail him with.

Hell, did he have anything that might incriminate him...

Giving up on stacking them alphabetically, Ron turned to face his quarry. What he saw made him forget the acidic comment that had been already on his tongue. He swallowed thickly as a lump formed in his throat. He watched, terrified as Draco gently stroked a finger across the surface of his most treasured possession. In his mind he pleaded for Malfoy to return the picture to its rightful place, but Ron knew if he voiced that to the boy he'd just as surely hurl it at him. His wand was in the pocket of his robes and that was lying across his bed, far too close to Draco for him to easily get access to without causing suspicion and the most definite destruction of his picture. No matter which way he looked at this dilemma, he was going to lose.

There was no way out, he was going to have to appeal to Malfoy's sense of decency. What on earth was he talking about? The Slytherin had no such virtue to speak of, but he had to at least try. Every other avenue spelled disaster.

He inched closer to the blond, keeping his movements slow and innocent. Malfoy raised an eyebrow as Ron moved towards him.

Draco almost felt like laughing. This was perfect. The redhead was clearly distressed on having his portrait manhandled by him. Draco snorted. Weasley should be so lucky!

No. This was positively marvelous. Of course he had the ginger-headed prick's attention now didn't he? Oh, what to do... what to do?

Ron blanched as Malfoy angled his body to the precise direction that he was approaching, which was a kind of meandering path, stopping to pick up a stray sock or such object along the way. It was an attempt to keep the blond off guard, which was failing dismally by the way. Malfoy swung his hips to follow Weasley's drawn out progress towards him. What an appalling endeavour, as if he didn't know what the redhead was up to.

Malfoy was no idiot. Ron knew that not for one moment was Draco fooled by his charade. That curled lip was only becoming more saccharine coated the closer he got to his target. Ron gave up and did the one thing he told himself he would never do. He begged.

"Malfoy, please?" he beseeched the Slytherin, timidly holding out his hands toward Draco.

Oh this was even better. A submissive Weasley, he quite liked the thought of that. If he nudged him just a little further, could he get one of the coveted threesome to grovel at his feet? Probably not, but oh what dreams this act of prostration were going to fuel.

Ron swallowed his pride standing in front of the smarmy bastard like this, he knew he'd never hear the end of the ribbing he'd get from Malfoy for sinking this low, but the gift meant more to him then having to endure Malfoy's taunts.

"Please can I have the photo back?" Ron managed through gritted teeth.

Draco slid to the side, grazing Ron's fingers as he moved past him. Swinging around, he held the frame out for him to take.

Ron swallowed with difficulty as he reached...

With a chuckle Draco snatched his hand back before Ron could close his fist around the edge of the frame.

He closed his eyes, cursing Malfoy under his breath.

Draco danced around him for a moment before stopping directly in front of Ron. Gazing up at the tall redhead through dusky eyelashes, his moistened lips turned up at the corner of his mouth.

Evil never looked so tempting. Damn him.

Draco took one confident step into his personal space. Ron bristled at Malfoy's audacity. He stood motionless, wondering what the hell Draco was up to.

He didn't have to wait long as Draco's fingers took hold of his, sliding warmly across his Quidditch roughened skin before pressing the edge of the photo frame into his palm.

Ron gulped, sucking in air with his relief. He hadn't realised that he'd stopped breathing until the moment Draco handed him back the frame. It had been his grandmother's. Ron had only been a year shy of starting Hogwarts when she pulled him aside one visit and presented him with the frame. It had been the last time he'd seen her before she died.

Ron's fingers curled over the beaded brocade, he could feel each tiny silver bead under his skin as he closed his eyes fleetingly, lost in his happiness of having it back and the memories it evoked.

"Thank you," he whispered.

It was then that he felt the fingers circling his hand, a thumb rasping across the sensitive skin of his wrist. Ron gasped as the world tilted askew, his eyes flying open with the unwarranted assault. Hot breath fanned over his temple. Words were spoken, exhaled against his throat, a tease against his dry lips and all but consumed by the pounding of his own heart. He was everywhere at once, dizzying.

Draco began to lift Weasley's hand towards his mouth; the light dusting of freckles entranced him. He wanted so badly to taste each golden speckle.

Ron balked, snatching back his hand and clutching it to his chest as if Malfoy had just bitten him.

"What the...?"Ron yelped, mouth gaping as he struggled for an appropriate comeback.

Draco's touch was like a spider web, no matter how much he rubbed his hand over his sweater he couldn't erase the haze of fine tendrils from around his mind. Maddening.

Just then the door burst open and in stumbled Fred, immediately followed by George who managed to collide into his brother's back side, almost toppling them both over in the process. Grappling with Fred's torso for balance, George peeked over his shoulder to see what his brother was gawking at. What he found amused him highly and the twins gave each other a knowing smirk, before succumbing to fits of raucous laughter.

Their little brother was pinned against the side of his bed, eyes impossibly wide, shaking like some frightened rabbit cornered by a hungry fox. Draco Malfoy may be a pipsqueak- a wee blond imp - but he sure knew how to loom over his prey despite his itty bitty size. The twins felt obliged to tease mercilessly at the severe cuteness in front of them. They were surprisingly charitable like that.

"Awwwww..." they both chorused insipidly. "Is Ronnikins in need of rescuing from the clutches of the big bad Malfoy? Do you need our help or would you rather we left you two alone?"

Suffice it to say, Ron's embarrassment only deepened at their words. Oh fabulous. His brothers were now mocking him as they witnessed his extreme humiliation. How brilliant it was to have such caring siblings who thought your shame was the perfect opportunity to ridicule you further. What happened to Weasley's banding together, rallying to support each other in a crisis?

Ron took one look at those sadistically amused faces and knew it was hopeless; they were both enjoying themselves way too much to think of him. Perhaps if he told them that Malfoy had almost kissed him they might have hauled the blond off him, but there was no way in hell he was going to admit that to anyone. That would be like conjuring the spiders himself.

Malfoy was entirely too smug for his own good, basking in his glory at besting at least one Weasley. Ron wasn't going to let the boy demean him any further; he was disgusted with his own inaction. The Slytherin had him cowering in a corner of his own room for Merlin's sake, how dare...

Ron growled in the back of his throat, clenching his hands into fists as he stepped forward until he was nose to nose with the blond hell spawn.

Shaking off the instant clouding of his emotions at the proximity to Draco, Ron tightened his hold on the white hot rage that simmered in his belly. He let it flare brightly, withering any traces of longing that he'd imagined were there between them.

He was just about to introduce Malfoy to his fist when the horrible sound of glass being pulverized under foot reached his ears.

Oh Merlin...No!

All thoughts of busting Malfoy's lip vanished. Lifting his foot slowly, Ron almost didn't want to look. He knew exactly what he'd find and his heart caved at the confirmation.

It was as if the Earth had ceased to spin on its axis and in its wake everything around him had slowed down, voices he knew to be his brothers grew muffled. A fog had misted over his vision, or so he hoped it was a fog (inside and in his bedroom) because he really couldn't face the prospect of it being actual tears. To let Malfoy witness him crying would be the ultimate humiliation. His eyes burned with the desire to just scream, to howl out his pain, to kill that bastard for being the reason his Grandmother's frame made from her wedding dress lay in ruins at his feet. Each one of those perfect teardrop beads had been crushed under his enormous foot. His fault, all his...

Ron wanted nothing more than to crush until _he_ was the one shattered beyond repair, but an overwhelming sense of loss, of grief was too much. He couldn't find the strength to even lift his arms, let alone strike Malfoy down.

Draco had actually blanched at the despair that had transformed Ron's face. Surely he wasn't about to cry over a crummy old photo. This was nauseating having Weasley practically blubbering over the demise of bit of cheap paper. Hell, if this is all it took to send the redhead into a complete wreck... he'd print off a hundred photos tomorrow of the trio and take pleasure in ripping them all into unrecognizable pieces.

Except, Draco felt no such gratification even now and as Ron walked past him, making the effort to avoid even brushing up against him, he could only gawk, bewildered by the shame he felt at causing Ron's misery.

Where in the fuck was this coming from? He didn't do contrition because he'd simply never been sorry for anything he'd done in his entire life.

There was no punch in the face from those hard fists, or a single solitary word from that mouth. Ron was too damn silent, so deathly calm that Draco could only assume that he had got it all so very wrong. This was not about a photo.

The door slammed. At least Ron had given him that, but it wasn't nearly enough.

Draco continued to stare blankly at the door, until he felt two pairs of eyes fixed on him from across the room. Defiantly he turned to face the twins, raising his chin slightly at the dual looks of sympathy directed at him.

"Oh mate, I pity you," George offered.

Draco only sneered at both of them, lifting his chin sharply. Like he needed or wanted their pity.

The twins left soon after, leaving Draco standing in the middle of Ron's bedroom very much alone.

* * *

It had been surprisingly easy to fly out of Hogwarts and at the back of his mind that fact disturbed Harry faintly. His leaving the grounds should have sparked great whopping alarm bells or at least the wards. It wasn't like Snape could go look for him, but that didn't mean there weren't other professors and members of the Order who wouldn't be sent out to bring him back soon enough. 

To be honest Harry didn't even know where to begin looking for Dudley, but number four Privet Drive seemed as likely a beginning as any. He landed a few blocks from the Dursley's, keeping as close to the other houses as possible. Scanning the eerily still sky, he crept over the front lawn making his way towards the driveway.

A thick layer of fine snow had covered the suburban neighbourhood and for one hesitant moment Harry wondered if he even had the right house. A white blanket of snow had covered up everything in the garden that could distinguish the Dursley's home from any other on the street. It was then, as he was succumbing to a potentially hazardous panic attack, he recognized a particular shrub... the one Aunt Petunia had fashioned into a perfect sphere at the corner of the house. The covering of ice seemed to make it glow in the moonless night, softly beckoning to him from its lofty position in the garden. Harry sucked in a lungful of icy air; thank Merlin for his aunt's titanic obsession to best the neighbours with her green fingers. It was there that he decided to stash his broom, before cautiously heading for the back door.

The blackened windows of the house next door seemed to loom over him menacingly. This could very well be a trap. Actually, he was pretty damn certain of it. It was a splendid opportunity for Death Eaters to snatch him and take him back to their lord, but then when did Harry Potter ever heed warning signs?

Testing the back door, Harry was relieved to find that it was indeed still locked. Unfortunately, that meant very little as any marginally intelligent Death Eaters could have simply sealed the door behind them. Pointing the tip of his wand under the door, he uttered a quick reveal charm. Supposedly excellent in displaying for the conjurer the presence of Dark magic, it's only drawback a limit of a five metre radius from the tip of the wand.

The end of his wand radiated an ominous dark green, which, if Harry was reading correctly, was not exactly encouraging. It meant dark magic activity was present in the house. Of course he'd been prepared for such a result. It could also be deciphered as a lingering existence of dark magic and the wizards or witches had in fact left the premises, either way the evidence was inconclusive.

There was only one thing left to do.

"Alohomora!"

The door clicked softly open, swinging inward to reveal thick foreboding darkness. Harry gathered the remnants of his courage around him like a security blanket and stepped onto the welcome mat. His hot breath caused the freezing air to steam, curling around him, billowing about his robes as he moved further into the house. It was colder inside the house then it was outside on the street.

Harry passed the stairs and the tiny room under them where he lived for most his life before Hogwarts. He didn't even give it a second glance as he headed for the front of the house, the kitchen and the dining room. Systematically inspecting each room for clues, he ended up finding nothing that seemed out of the ordinary. Everything was immaculate and in its place, just as Aunt Petunia preferred.

Faced with the decision of mounting the stairs, Harry hesitated, wand held out in front of him. Eventually he took the first step. The meagre light from the tip of his wand did nothing to penetrate the gloom before him. If anything it seemed more compressed here, the air positively glacial, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand up on end. A shiver trickled down his spine and Harry couldn't help the feeling that something was waiting for him at the top of those stairs. Swallowing hard, he willed himself to take another step, icy fingers around his throat, stealing his breath. He had to force down the desire to cast a stronger light, just so he could see what, if anything, was waiting in the dark for him. If the neighbours happened to notice his light and phoned the police, then his search would be over. Harry couldn't risk it.

One more step and then another, a mantra in his head that told him to keep moving upwards. Finally, he reached the landing for the second floor. Movement to his right caught his eye. Curse on the tip of his tongue as he whipped around to face his enemy only to realise it was a lace curtain at the end of the hall flapping in the wind.

Had the wind picked up? It had been so still when he arrived. A storm perhaps was brewing. The weather would mask some of his progress, making it more difficult, or so he hoped for someone to come after him. Sweeping his wand in an arc, he took in the fact that all the doors were closed before making his way right. He would check Dudley's room first and then his own, which was of course Dudley's second bedroom.

The curtains still danced in the wind at the end of the corridor. Harry lifted his wand to illuminate them but the glow was too weak to reach that distance. Switching, he pointed the wand at the first door as he approached warily. Harry only hoped that there was some clue as to where to go next. Malfoy manor was also a strong possibility but he had no idea how to get...

Oh my God, he nearly dropped his wand in his shock.

There was no curtain at the end of the corridor.

Aunt Petunia had hated the things and replaced the whole house with vertical blinds over the summer.

Harry had no time to react as he was slammed into by a dark mass, knocking him clean off his feet. He tried to scramble backwards, away from it. On his bottom, arms behind him doing all the work as his feet tried desperately to find purchase on the carpet. Just when he thought he had it, his legs buckled out from under him. The first wave of despair permeated his flesh, searing into every happy memory and driving him to his knees. Impact with the floor, wrenched the bones out of their socket, Harry screamed in agony. He slumped onto his side, jarring his hip but that was the least of his problems. His cheek pressed firmly into the carpet, those soft wool fibres mocking him. Their floral bouquet was nothing more than a tease as bitter cold misery penetrated his mind.

Harry was vaguely aware of the rasp of foul breath over his exposed cheek, a death rattle that mesmerized him. Bony fingers snatched at his jaw, forcing his head to turn towards the monster and face his own mortality. Harry refused, flailing uselessly, squeezing his eyes tight not wanting to witness the end.

"Expecto Patronum!" boomed through the house. With the voice disappeared the ice, the skeletal hand that had coveted his existence and the torment layered over all of it.

Those words had not fallen from his lips. His mind had taunted him, whispered seductively of their power, but he had neither strength nor a wand to conjure such a spell.

Harry blinked back the sorrow, the fear, before tilting his head to clap eyes on his rescuer.

A very pissed off Seamus Finnigan stood over him, glaring down at him.

Harry offered him a grateful smile. The silly sod must have followed him from Hogwarts.

Seamus' eyes narrowed for a fraction before offering his hand to Harry.

Harry placed his hand in Seamus' and let the boy haul him to his feet, where he promptly cried out in pain. He'd forgotten about his injured knee.

Easing him back on to the carpet, Seamus inspected Harry's knee. A flick of his wand later and the Irishman had one very relieved 'boy who lived' on his hands. It was awfully convenient having a mediwizard in training as a boyfriend.

"There was only one." Seamus spoke into his hair, arms wrapped tightly around him.

"I was a dolt for not expecting the Death Eaters would leave something behind as a gift." Harry cracked a brittle smile prior to claiming Seamus' throat in an aggressive kiss.

"Yes, you are an idiot for leaving the grounds without some kind of back-up." Seamus gasped. His breath whistling through clenched teeth as Harry dragged his tongue across his jugular while crawling into his lap.

Peeling Harry's body away from him reluctantly, Seamus shook the Gryffindor.

"Why are we here?"

Harry's lust glazed eyes glittered back into awareness.

"Dudley." He answered hollowly, shocked at his capacity to forget everything in Seamus' presence.

"Dudley? Your cousin Dudley?"

"Yes. I have to find him. He's in danger."

"But why, I thought the Dursley's treated you no better than their personal slave?" Seamus frowned.

Harry's eyes flickered. "They did- I mean they do... How do you know that? Never mind. I have to find him. its different now- I can't explain- you'll just have to trust me."

Seamus gazed at him a moment. "Okay," he whispered.

Harry gave a quick nod. Moving around the other Gryffindor, he reached the bedroom door and pushed it open. It was darker still in this room and Harry instantly flinched backwards at a gust a freezing air that buffeted him.

'Stupid, stupid' He didn't even have his wand with him. Seamus launched himself past Harry but this time it _was_ an open window and a storm was indeed brewing. Harry smacked his hand onto his forehead. Where was his head lately? Scooping up his wand from the corridor where he'd dropped it, he joined Seamus in Dudley's room.

Seamus stood near the open window; it wasn't until Harry got closer that he noticed the crumpled form under the windowsill.

"No!" Harry choked out. "Damn him. No." he wailed, fury and grief in the same breath.

* * *


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

Seamus watched, helpless as Harry fell to his knees by his cousin's body. He felt Harry's pain and for one long moment it paralyzed him. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he crouched down beside him, reached for him.

Harry flinched. "Don't!" he barked, without turning his head. He couldn't bare the thought of being touched.

Seamus snatched back his hand, devastated. He rose to his feet but didn't turn and leave.

Dudley was resting on his side, face turned towards the wall. Harry could almost make himself believe that his cousin had curled up and was at this very moment taking a nap under the stars. Except there were no stars to speak of, only flat monotonous grey as far as the eye could see and the biting cold, always the hellish cold. Not even the Dementor could rival the ice that had cored out his heart.

He'd failed him. He was to blame for this, for not getting there quick enough. It was ridiculous because he hadn't asked for this life. He hadn't any choice in the matter that his parents were killed, that he was fobbed off to relatives who despised him and then spent his teenage years being pursued by a psychopath. Still, he couldn't help feeling he was to blame for this. Somehow he should have expected it. Voldemort rattling around in his brain, he probably watched with monstrous glee as he and Dudley became friends and then waited for his chance to taint him, to turn him against him. The grin that transformed Harry's face was positively macabre. He laid odds Dudley failed to be corrupted, that he held tight to his new beliefs and suffered greatly for it.

He had to know- to own his failure completely he had to see the extent of his loss. Harry gently began to roll Dudley's body toward him.

Seamus seized him by the shoulders, but Harry shrugged them off violently. No one would stop him from seeing.

"Harry please, you don't..." Seamus bolted from the room.

Harry stared, horrified. He drew in frigid air in great racking sobs, not once taking his eyes off the savage condition of Dudley's body.

In the background he was aware that Seamus was ridding his stomach of dinner all over Aunt Petunia's pristine carpet and wouldn't she be pleased.

Harry ghosted his fingers down Dudley's arms, curling them around his cousin's hands. They were frozen in death as if he'd been desperately clawing his way out of whatever torment they had thrust upon him.

I'll kill you for this.

The terror forever petrified in those sightless eyes, his mouth twisted, stretched into a hideous scream, eternally muted. His flesh had been torn from his cheek, gouged out by what Harry could only imagine were someone's fingernails. Those thin lips that had once laughed out loud at Harry's school yard antics were now in ribbons, bitten viciously by the thing that defiled him beyond reason.

He mewled at the desecration, he couldn't stop the pitiful sound from coming out of his mouth, and it was too much, too fucking much. How could they do this to an innocent boy?

This wasn't right, this wasn't happening. No! He wouldn't believe it; he'd refuse to believe. He could see it, all of it, but it wasn't real. It was a dream. Yes, that's what it was, just a nightmare he'd conjured up in his sleep deprived mind. Nothing more...

"Harry?"

"No," he whispered, chanting the one word until he was screaming, and screaming it.

The pain sliced into his heart with agonizing precision.

* * *

Ron spent the rest of the evening avoiding Malfoy. After storming out of the bedroom, he had hidden away in the attic. As a small child he'd hated it up there. Wardrobes full of old mouldy clothes, trunks stacked to the roof containing odd trinkets that had always given him the creeps. He'd imagined that they were dark art objects, passed down from his ancestors, forgotten amongst the dust and the cobwebs. That of course had been the main reason he had recoiled away from ever entering the attic: the possibility of spiders, lots of them.

Shiny dark eyes watching him from the corners, their small furry bodies and all those legs scuttling towards him caused Ron to shiver violently in dread of such an attack. He could feel those fragile tendrils over his face, and he'd freeze, terrified as to where the spider was that had spun the web...in his hair, crawling down his arm or worst of all, scurrying down the back of his robes, inside his clothing, trapped against his flesh. Goosebumps rose on his skin at the very thought of tiny alien legs touching him.

As he'd gotten older and the need to find a place where he could be alone became more urgent, he sought out the merits of the attic once more. Of course the first thing he did was banish the spiders. Now, it was his bolt hole, his haven away from his parents and siblings, a place where he could think without being disturbed by a nosey family member.

Ron had arranged the eclectic mix of furniture into a maze, placing several simple muggle traps just in case the twins got curious and went looking for him. He had stacked three old mattresses on top of each other against the back wall of the house, erecting a makeshift bookcase and writing table out of a couple of decrepit suitcases that had been the proud owner of hundreds of marbles. Those same small glass balls were now an intricate part of one of his traps. To compliment the muggle traps, he'd practised his warding skills on the enclosed space, to the point where he was secure in the knowledge that no one would disturb his sanctuary.

* * *

Exhausted, Harry slumped forward wrapping his arms around Dudley's limp form and tugging the boy to his chest. He simply rocked Dudley in his arms, his own throat raw from screaming.

Pressing his face into his cousins matted hair he swore. "I promise to get them all for this...I'm sorry, I'm so damn sorry." His tears soaked into Dudley's hair. "I should have known he'd target you and I bet you fought him didn't you? I'll finish this for you, I promise you."

Seamus almost made the mistake of touching him, but he remembered all too painfully his rejection and his arm dropped before he could come in contact with the back of Harry's robes.

"Harry? Harry we have to leave." Seamus knew this was his family, but he couldn't bare it, those sightless eyes almost glaring at him accusingly from over Harry's shoulder, his head lolling obscenely. Besides, they'd made enough noise to alert the neighbours of their presence and he just knew it would not be long till the police were knocking down the front door.

* * *

Hunger eventually drew Ron from his hiding place. As he closed the trapdoor and made his way downstairs, he could hear his family below gathered around the dinner table. He must have been so preoccupied with thoughts of Malfoy that it was later then he had believed it to be.

The frame meant everything to him. It had been gifted to him alone, not his brothers or Ginny but him and now it was gone, destroyed by a goddamn Malfoy. That wasn't something new, the Malfoys, he was certain, were used to destroying everything in their path. It could be said that to annihilate your opposition was a right of passage in the Malfoy household. He was probably one of those four year olds who practised the killing curse on helpless critters and torched his toys for fun, just to watch them burn.

Ron heard footsteps behind him, he turned to see Draco hovering two steps above him. They connected for an instant before Ron whirled back around and fled down the stairs, the last thing he needed was to be alone with the Slytherin.

"I don't...." Draco hesitated, he was almost going to apologise. What in the heck was wrong with him lately?

* * *

Harry ignored Seamus as he placed Dudley back on his side, sweeping his blood caked hair out of his eyes. Reaching back, Harry pulled the blanket from the end of Dudley's bed and laid it over his cousin's body, tucking it neatly under him. The glass from the open window had been shattered and the storm outside was increasing. Slowly rising to his feet, Harry took one last sweeping look at Dudley before taking his wand and apparating from the house.

Seamus rushed to the window to witness Harry reappear on the front lawn. He tried to scream at him, but either his words were lost in the wind or Harry chose not to listen. Either way, Seamus watched powerless as a dark figure launched into the air and disappeared out of sight without once looking back at him.

A police car emerged from around the corner and parked in front of the Dursley's. Seamus flattened himself against the wall next to the window frame.

"Oh Fuck!"

Somehow he'd misplaced his wand and he suspected he knew just who it had vanished with.

* * *

So far, Ron hadn't tried to decapitate Draco with the bread knife. He'd made sure not to even glance in the boy's direction, just in case his mere presence incited violence. The blond on his part had remained blissfully silent in return. He hadn't even scowled at anyone, not once.

Okay, so maybe he'd sneaked a peak at him one time, maybe two...

Draco wasn't the only one who wasn't speaking. Conversation around the old table was being stifled to a bare minimum. This was extremely odd as all meals in the Weasley home were without exception, a huge, noisy affair. Usually there was a great deal to be said, even with a stranger amongst them. Not so it appeared with a certain Slytherin sharing their evening meal. Apparently Malfoys were the anomaly...what a shocker!

That was about to change.

The dish of butter that Ron wanted, badly, was located next to one Draco Malfoy; he didn't think he could eat his potatoes without a little butter to improve the texture and enhance the taste. For the past two minutes he'd contemplated asking Ginny if she could pass it to him. He felt so silly, he knew he was being childish but he really didn't want to ask Malfoy for anything.

Draco had watched Ron do everything to avoid eye contact with him, pushing peas and carrots around and around his plate that he was positively exhausted and seriously peeved. Scooping up a dollop of butter onto his fork he proceeded to fling it at the Ron's head.

"You... are an imbecile Weasley!"

Thunder rolled over Ron's expression as the butter hit him on the cheek and slid down to cling to his shirt. Every inch of his face and hands stained to a vibrant red as he glared murderously at Draco seated directly across from him. He was tempted to kick him under the table but couldn't be sure he'd strike Ginny by mistake, as she was seated next to the blond.

Molly looked horrified but quickly found her fingers being squeezed under the table by her husband. Despite Arthur's restraint, she knew only to well the temperament of her youngest son and kept a close eye for any signs that surely meant war between the two.

The twins were laughing, whispering in each other's ear. Ron didn't even want to speculate on just what it was they were sniggering about.

With a fierce grip on his knife, Ron scraped off the butter meticulously till no fragment remained to soil the cotton. He devoted this time to calming his temper, soothing the boiling rage within. Discarding nothing, Ron transferred the butter missile to the potatoes on his plate.

What he really wanted to do was swing the plate at Malfoys neck and hope the impact sliced it clear off his shoulders. He had seen that in a muggle movie once and thought it rather wicked. A bit gruesome for his taste though. He could just stab the retched beast in the heart, but he was certain Malfoy didn't have one. In reality he took a forkful of potato dripping in butter and stuck it in his mouth, making a great deal of noise as he licked every particle of the vegetable off his fork- savouring the taste- his eyes challenging Malfoy from across the breadth of the dining table.

The smirk on Draco's face vanished and he visibly swallowed, his head dipping towards his plate. All of a sudden his half-eaten meal had become incredibly fascinating.

It was Ron's turn to smirk. Score one for the weasel. He paled though when he realized that the fork that had flung the butter at him had been in Draco's mouth. Internally, he groaned.

* * *


	20. Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

Harry touched down in a deserted backstreet seemingly untouched by the snow that has cloaked the rest of the city. Less than an hour ago the street had been crawling with trucks, this being one of the busiest alleys in London. Breathing deep, he can still smell a hint of diesel in the air. Lined with warehouses, the street catered to some of the finest stores in town. Every entrance alarmed with the most sophisticated of muggle technology.

He and Dudley had spent many nights over the summer cataloguing the comings and goings of the security team that monitored the warehouses. Because _Black Knight Security_ had an unblemished reputation, no would be burglar dared attempt to break in.

The contents of the warehouses were of no concern to them; it was only the seclusion of the street they both desired. For Harry the cameras had not been a problem, - a little flick of the wrist usually did the trick. His invisibility cloak had never worked so hard in its life over those warm nights and early misty mornings.

Beyond the warehouses lay both their salvations; a plethora of some of the hottest clubs in the muggle world. It is here that two boys, both stifled by their own inner demons, on the cusp of manhood, bonded. Both had been forced into a corner by adults who believed they were the answer to all their past failings. Their own peers turned to them for guidance, for leadership, when they themselves struggled for inner peace.

Together they could escape what was expected, because together they gave each other a reason to go forward when life had become increasingly bleak. They had never been lovers... in Harry's opinion they were beyond such titles. Cousins- obviously, brothers- definitely, friends... always, even in death. They were kindred. If Voldemort thought destroying Dudley would hurt him, then he had been correct. But he'd also made the biggest mistake of his life taking Dudley from him. Being guilty of his parent's death was one thing; Harry had been too young to truly miss them. But Dudley was something else entirely. He'd kill for Dudley, which was Tom Riddles fatal mistake. Before, Harry only wished to avoid a confrontation with the man, now he would seek him out and punish him accordingly.

Transfiguring his rain soaked robes into something more suitable, Harry shrunk his broom and stowed it behind a loose brick at the far end of the alley. Slipping through an imposing iron gate, he followed the narrow path ahead. It led to the side entrance of the 'Rainbow Express', a sleazy dance club that never failed to reek of frenzied desperation. It had always been Harry and Dudley's first stop of the night. _This_ horrid night would be no exception.

In a shadowed corner to his right, Harry could just make out the silhouette of two men fucking against the brick wall. Their grunts of completion punching the air and causing him to quicken his steps. He too needed a hard fuck with a stranger, anything to smother the grief for a little while.

As Harry rounded the corner, he was immediately spotted.

"Ron!"

Harry grinned, acknowledging the greeting of Teddy, one of the clubs bouncers. He'd chosen the name for himself he guessed as a tribute to his friend, a man he adored. In the beginning it had just felt like he was playing a part and a different name from 'Harry' was important so that he could separate his two worlds, yet still be familiar so as not to be caught out.

"We haven't seen you round 'ere for weeks. Thought you'd ditched us for creamier pastures mate?"

Harry pushed past some of the patrons lining up outside, slapping Teddy across those wide shoulders before clutching onto one rippling bicep. He whispered low into the man's ear.

"Now would I leave you like that Teddy?" He licked thoroughly across the shell of the ear before him, leaning back, innocence like thick molasses shining in his eyes.

The man chuckled huskily, one enormous hand sliding over the small of his back to squeeze his rump through the figure hugging silk.

"Gorgeous as always," Teddy breathed over his throat.

Harry batted his lashes coquettishly, black mascara accentuating the shape, the green of his eyes. A little kohl smudged underneath completed the sultry look. He could practically see the big man melt under his attention. There was a reason Dudley and he had always been swept through every queue. A spot of fellatio, a quick grope, maybe a kiss if they were lucky... meant doors opened all over town for the both of them.

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While his mum served out her homemade pie for dessert, Ron kept a close eye on Draco's movements. Not that he was actually moving, unless you counted rolling his eyes every time he caught a certain redhead eyeballing him across the table. If he wasn't sure Weasley was as straight as they come, then he'd have sworn that the boy had a thing for him. Draco preened at the thought, his hand sliding through his hair to flick over his shoulder, freezing when he realised he was being watched by the youngest of the brood.

Taking a moment to compose his features, he casually let his gaze drift in her direction. Draco coolly assessed her through his lashes, putting on quite the show.

Ginny sighed, raising an eyebrow at his pitiful masquerade. With a final shake of her luscious mane, she turned away from him and started a conversation with Charlie instead.

How dare she ignore him?

Draco wanted to stomp his feet, whine about being so easily dismissed, but he didn't. Instead, he gripped the corners of his chair and thought up as many brutal scenarios as he could involving the slow demise of the Weasley's until he'd repressed his murderous impulses.

Ron watched the exchange with quiet amusement. His sister was the master manipulator.

"You have no hope in besting her Malfoy!"

Draco's head whipped up to glare at him, his rage instantly flaring to life again.

Ron stared back at him, - evenly,- just itching for the Slytherin to give him an excuse to clobber him one.

As if he'd expected such conduct, Draco thrilled in giving him nothing to bite with. Ginny wasn't the only person who had a talent for giving someone the cold shoulder and unlike her, he just knew Ron would be furious about being left out. Draco preferred to transfer his attention to that of the pie on his plate. He attacked the soft pastry crust with the tip of his knife, a clean cut that spilled the sweet cherries from within, tainting the blade with its blood red pulp. He continued to hack away until he was panting, sweat trickling down his right temple. Only then, did he stop to admire his work.

Mrs. Weasley took one look at the mutilated pie on his plate and promptly denied him any bid for freedom. He would be helping her tonight with the cleaning up.

Ron bit his lip, disappointed at Draco's retreat, but highly amused at his mother's non-compliance. He was entirely too smug about the whole thing. Boy though, he did love his mum something awful at that moment. His actions just might get him kicked in the arse, but he couldn't help himself.

Molly, in her extreme generosity, allowed Ron to leave the dinner table when he asked politely. His behaviour had been deplorable, but yet another minute in both their companies would have been intolerable all-round, and most certainly the end of her sweet nature. Young Malfoy had much to learn about being a part of a large family. He would stay behind.

Ron immediately retreated up the stairs. To ask why she was punishing Malfoy after making such an effort to include him in their home, was to surely revoke her permission.

Ron had quite enough of the blond Slytherin for one day, so the mystery of why he wasn't being punished would have to remain just that... a mystery.

Draco held his tongue as he was asked politely, but in a voice that brooked no argument, to help with the dishes. Instead of hexing her, he snarled towards the ceiling, somewhere up there laid Ron, the prime suspect in his undoing. He was too exhausted to fight, but not to stomp his feet as he crossed over to the kitchen. He'd never washed a dish in his life! It could be entertaining and if he broke a few plates along the way, well so be it. The Weasley's could always afford more, right? Draco grinned to himself.

Ron bypassed his bedroom and went straight to his fortress of solitude; he had more thinking to do. Draco would be the reason, the subject in the pages of his diary, the friggin' symphony playing relentlessly in his head.

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Harry kept one eye on the drink at his elbow and the other on the mirror over the bar. Behind him, spread out like some sumptuous banquet just waiting for his perusal, was the dance floor. He liked to pick and choose from a distance without being watched. Besides, who could resist the elegant curve of his neck, the lingering length of Quidditch toned muscles, not to mention his supremely fabulous arse over all that black silk. He was in a word, divine.

It was seconds later that he clasped eyes on him, the one who would be fucking him blind two minutes from now. What a breath-taking specimen he was, not unlike a certain redheaded friend he so badly desired. His features were different of course, his lips thinner but he could close his eyes and pretend as long as the guy kept his mouth shut. There was nothing worse then a substitute lover who had to babble on so during sex. That was Harry's one stipulation, either keep quiet or move on.

Downing the last of his drink, he touched up his flawless makeup with a wave of his long fingers. Pushing off from the stool, he made his way over to the unsuspecting hunk of man flesh. Harry prowled, wetting his shiny red lips with his tongue. Oh yeah, he was perfection.

Mr. You- Are- So- Going- To- Want- To- Ride- My- Thick- Cock had spotted his arrival, and blushed accordingly. Harry grinned, flashing him white teeth. Oh, the boy was shy, how simply delicious.

Harry sashayed across the floor, rubbing his thigh against one man, fingers sliding across the arse of another, smoky eyes never leaving his prey.

Finally, he was standing in front of the redhead. Harry was more than pleased to note that the man was even more appealing on closer inspection. His physique resembled Ron's, right down to what promised to be an impressive dick.

He trickled his fingers down the man's chest, curling his fist into the waistband, stroking warm responsive skin with a thumb before tugging him sharply. The man slammed into his chest and Harry just clung, attaching his lips to this stranger's mouth and then devouring him on contact. He had no intention of drawing this out, he wanted to be fucked and he wanted it now!

Fortunately the man agreed with him, if the feverish groping was anything to go by. Oh yeah, he was big, really big. Harry opened his eyes and promptly groaned, dropping his head on the man's chest.

No, not the groan of the sated, but the pained groan of being caught by one infuriating Gryffindor who was at this moment hovering behind his would be lovers shoulder. Seamus, who is quite spectacular when it comes to entrances, stood with his arms crossed, glaring holes into Harry's forehead... like he needed another scar.

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Ron threw himself face down onto his makeshift bed, a string of curses muffled into the pillow. Breathing deep, inhaling musky particles that almost had him in a coughing fit; he flopped over and stared hard at the peeked ceiling as his eyes watered. Reaching out blindly, his fingers skimmed over the spines of his journals till he reached the one he wanted. Pulling it out, he let the book fall open across his stomach.

Inside was written every venomous word that had ever dripped from that mouth. It was his book, reserved for Malfoy only. The pages contained every encounter he'd had with the Slytherin from their initial confrontation on the Hogwarts Express that first year up until today. Ron would painstakingly recreate every argument onto the pages within.

His last entry had been just as detailed, although Ron hadn't quite believed the words. It was too incredible for him, for anyone to wrap their head around. Malfoy a muggle, a mudblood... it was impossible. Even if it was so, Draco was not excused for past behaviour, for being a right bastard all these years.

With a pen in his hand and _his_ latest words fresh in his mind, Ron transcribed the evening down to the smallest of details. Every nuance discussed, argued and altered then rewritten till it was out of his head and all in words where he could forget it existed. Purging the venom from his system was necessary; the book his therapy. He could breathe once more when it was completed.

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Harry mouthed 'go away' over his shoulder at Seamus. To the Irishman's credit he didn't even blink in his glaring match and Harry would have sworn the boy would have at least gawked at his fetching attire. Hell, it wasn't everyday you saw Harry Potter in a silk slip and makeup for goodness sake. Wasn't he at least a little shocked?

Choosing to ignore the Gryffindor, Harry insinuated one knee in between his dancing partner's legs. Taking the lead for a moment, he spun him in the opposite direction... except that turned out to be far worse as headmaster Albus Dumbledore was standing there calmly watching him. He should be mortified, he wasn't.

"Harry?" Seamus crackled from over his shoulder.

There was confusion and a smattering of real fear in the stranger's watery blue eyes, those eyes that darted from his, then back to Seamus. It was the fear that clinched it for Harry, it was over.

Disentangling his arms, Harry recoiled. Blowing a final kiss, he swept past Seamus and headed out the back entrance. Brushing the curtain aside, Harry stalked through the throng of naked males writhing together in the private room.

A tersely muttered "Alohomora" and he could breathe again. Freezing air hit Harry's bare arms, forming goose bumps over his skin. He shivered, realising he was not alone.

"Well you've found me; let's go back to Hogwarts shall we."

Without waiting for a reply from the two, he marched through the gates into the alley. Saying goodbye to this other life, he shook off the remnants of the spell that had transfigured his clothing. He had known for a long time now that this hedonist life could not last. He'd just wanted to ignore the ticking clock a little longer.

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Draco sat cross-legged on a bed, his bed, well technically not his, but used by him until such a time that he no longer would be forced to live in this poor excuse for a house. A bed, in a room that again was not his but borrowed and shared by another.

He resisted the urge to explore _his _room again, for anyone who entered would come to the conclusion that he found such a Weasley worthy of further inspection, which he of course did not. Not that he was around to stop him from said exploring anyhow. Still, he would not think of him. He had other distractions to pass the time.

Draco scowled at his wrinkled fingers. Unfortunately, washing dishes hadn't been as deplorable as he'd presumed it would be. Menial tasks, such as were given to a number of house elves sequestered in a kitchen he'd never even stepped a foot in. The Weasleys had no such house elf to speak of and a kitchen right out in the open for anyone to see, quite disgusting. It was obvious he was to be their indentured servant. How perfect that must be for all of them, a Malfoy soiling his hands on their filth. Salazar knows how many demeaning chores they had lined up for him. And yet after all that had happened, he had not broken a single dish. He'd fix that the next time he was instructed to be their friggin' maid.

Draco blew across his fingers, scrutinising their poor condition one last time before stretching out on the bed and glaring at the ceiling. Where the hell was he?

"You can't avoid the inevitable forever Weasley!" he whispered harshly. Hurt that Ron was hiding from him.

Tired of waiting, Draco slipped out the bedroom door and into the shadowed hallway. He could hear giggling interspersed with whispers from the twin's room, which lay directly opposite. He took a step, crossing the narrow space between their doors. He almost pressed his ear to the door before him, to eavesdrop, but thought better of it. Draco remembered all too well the pranks the two had got up to at Hogwarts and suspected their door was rigged with some beastly spell to repel nosey siblings from doing just that.

Sneering, he turned his back on them and silently made his way down the stairs. On the landing, he ducked down and watched through the banisters as Mr. Weasley worked at the table.

Mother would have been horrified if Father had used their dining table in such a fashion. Not that father would have dared tinker with anything, least of all an object of the muggle persuasion. Draco wasn't exactly sure it was muggle in origin, but considering he'd never seen anything of the like he presumed it was invented by _them_. He'd been brought up with a vast knowledge of many things, but this by far eluded him. Weasley's did have an unhealthy infatuation with anything those puny minds had ever conceived, so he was convinced it was a Muggle contraption.

Arthur glanced up, out of the corner of his eye he spotted a shadow. Hiding a grin, he fetched two slices of bread from the pantry and proceeded to feed them into the two gaping mouths of the silvery thing on the table.

Leaning back so as not to be incinerated, Arthur tentatively reached his hand forward and carefully pressed the lever downwards till it remained in that position and the bread had disappeared within its belly.

Draco was transfixed; a metal creature that ate bread, not exactly frightening, unless its diet consisted of other bloodier delicacies. It certainly wasn't moving. If not a creature where had the bread gone to then and why? Was it some implement for bread to travel places? Perhaps not just bread, but all small objects could be transferred in this manner. Maybe there are larger versions so that muggles can move from place to place as well.

Just then there was a loud 'pop' and something sprung out of the same hole that the bread had previously disappeared into. Draco gasped; registering his mistake he slammed the palm of his hand over his mouth. Knowing he was too late, as surely he'd been heard.

"Come down here Draco, I can show you how it works. It won't bite, promise." Arthur grinned good-naturedly, beckoning the boy forward.

Draco remained where he was, suspended between wanting to know more and being repulsed by that same need. Father would have held him under _Imperio_ for showing even the slightest interest in something a muggle had created. But then the man who he believed to be his father was nothing of the sort. Did he want to know more about _their_ world? Was he ready to embrace what he had always been told was less than worthless? They were his kind and that very fact scared the hell out of him.

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As Ron neared his own room, he heard his father's voice downstairs. This could be the perfect opportunity for him to wheedle more information on Malfoy. Why he was here sounded like a fair enough inquiry. Resolute, he moved past his door and headed for the ground floor.

Rounding the corner, Ron lurched back just in time. The landing was already preoccupied by the source of all evil. He hid and listened, growing intensely more jealous with every second that _his_ father tried unsuccessfully to coerce the blond into his domain. He could have told his father it was a lost cause, Malfoy was not about to be swayed.

Daring to look, he wished he had kept his curiosity to himself. Even in profile he could see it, the naked hunger for knowledge. To touch and know what had been forbidden his whole life. Ron could see how he fought with himself for the right, the emotions flickering across his features evidence enough of the battle within.

Not wanting to look like a pathetic soul for getting all resentful because _Daddy's _attention was with the spawn of the devil rather than on him, Ron retreated back to his room to sulk.

Once back in his room, Ron released the breath he'd been holding. Standing in the middle of the room for a second before coming to his senses, he quickly surveyed the room, keeping a close eye out for anything out of place. Satisfied, he stripped to his boxers and slid under the covers.

At the creak of the door moving, he turned over to face the wall. He could sense Malfoy staring at him but made out that he was asleep rather than be provoked into yet another shouting match.

Ron couldn't help the tiny smile that transformed his dark mood. His father had failed to get to Malfoy, just as he'd suspected.

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Harry sat slumped forward, warming his frozen fingers with the heat of flames in the grate. He was back at Hogwarts, under close guard lest he feel the need to wander again.

Dumbledore had not lectured him, which didn't surprise the Gryffindor. It was his way. Harry knew the old man was biding his time till he came to him instead. Well, this was one time he would be waiting for a jolly a long time. Harry had no intention of speaking to him ever on the subject; it was no concern of his.

Seamus, the only other Gryffindor awake at this time of night, was pacing while he ranted at Harry.

Harry had tuned him out and was instead poking at a log in the fireplace, sending a torrent of sparks up the chimney.

"What do you think you were doing Harry? You left me there to deal with him and do you realise the police turned up after you left? Bloody narrow escape I tell you. And what was with your outfit, you were dressed like a girl. Is this like a kink? You into makeup, Potter? When you decide to come out, you really come out. Don't you?

Harry sighed. "Do shut up Seamus!"

The Irishman swallowed thickly, spluttering on his rage. "Excuse me?"

Harry abruptly stood up and whirled on the boy, his temper matching that of his companion.

"How did you know where to find me, Seamus? Hmm, tell me this?

The boy faltered, struggling for appropriate words.

"Spare me your lies. You placed a tracking spell on me, didn't you?"

Seamus looked indignant, even though he was very guilty.

Harry got up into his face.

"What gave you the idea that you had the right?" He blew hot air onto Seamus' face, his eyes wild.

"You left me there, took my wand so I couldn't follow." Seamus huffed back at him.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Exactly!"

Their eyes locked for an infinite amount of time, silence, the crackling of the fire the only ripple through the tension. It was Harry that spoke first, breaching whatever hush had fallen over the two of them.

"It wasn't about you. I was mourning the loss of my friend. It wasn't about you. _You_ weren't invited." It was a low voice, deadly quiet.

Seamus turned his head to gaze at the fire.

"I thought you had left me stranded there so you could go after Voldemort. I was scared, okay. Am I allowed to worry about you?"

Harry didn't have an answer for that. Defeated, Harry flopped back down on the couch. Seamus followed suit and sat down beside him.

"What about the dress, the makeup?"

Harry didn't answer immediately.

"You didn't like?" He eventually whispered.

Seamus considered his answer so as to least offend Harry.

"Not dislike, just different I guess." He mumbled the last part, unsure of what to say here.

Harry shifted to face him, anger plainly there for anyone to read.

"So in other words you think I'm a freak. Like I care what you think. The clothes, the makeup, there all a part of me, you don't understand and you never will."

Seamus growled, tired of being painted as the villain.

"You're right, I don't understand and I'm pretty darn sure I don't want to. I'm not saying you're a freak but you have to admit that it's kinda friggin' weird wanting to dress like a girl."

Harry shrank back away from Seamus, not at all certain he wanted to remain seated next to such a narrow-minded male. A man he once called friend.

Seamus reached for him, but Harry was too quick as he got to his feet.

"So you weren't in the least bit interested, back there in the club?"

Seamus hesitated before shaking his head.

Harry wasn't convinced. Drawing out his wand from his robes, he promptly murmured the incantation, the same one he'd used many times.

Before Seamus could intervene, Harry had changed back into his alter ego.

The Irishman scrambled off the couch, eyes frantically darting to the stairs that led to the Gryffindor dorms.

"Stop it Harry, anyone could come down and see you like this." He was thoroughly shocked that the celebrated Gryffindor would dare tarnish his reputation.

Harry shrugged, licking at his now bright red lips.

Seamus raised his arms out in front of him, palms up as if to ward him off.

"Stop, Harry! Come on, you don't have to do this to prove some kind of a point. I get it; you like dressing up as a women, nothing to be ashamed about."

Harry narrowed his gaze, pushing the desire to just tear Seamus' bloody eyes out for being so damn patronizing. Instead, he turned his performance up a notch, just to see what the boy would do if cornered.

"Don't come any closer." Seamus croaked, his eyes immediately focussing on the almost hypnotic sway of thighs being lovingly caressed in soft midnight folds of silk...

Harry prowled closer.

Harry ignored the plea.

Running out of space to manoeuvre, especially as Harry was bearing down on him at an alarming rate, he panicked and promptly tripped, landing on his arse.

Harry smirked, crouching down to Seamus level.

Seamus let out a thoroughly unmanly squeak and tried to get away on his hands and knees. Harry, in a much better position, soon had him immobile with just one hand splayed across his chest.

"Don't move." It wasn't a suggestion and just the tone had Seamus embarrassingly hard.

Harry bit his lip, anticipation everything as his fingers hurriedly pushed aside the boys cloak to get to where they really wanted to be. He glanced down, grinning when he caught sight of the slack jawed, rather glazed attention he was receiving. Harry swallowed with difficulty, his mouth appallingly dry as he continued to be admired. He was almost flattered enough to forgive him for his past behaviour... almost.

Seamus tried to switch him off, but it was futile. The makeup was having the opposite effect on him now that he was the sole beneficiary of all that subtle artistry. Okay, so there was nothing subtle about it, all of it was a tease. There to enhance and ensnare. Fuck, he was fighting a losing battle.

Harry smirked as he took his sweet time releasing each button from Seamus' trousers. He watched with delight as the Gryffindor came undone before his eyes... in so many ways.

Seamus could admit he was a mess, quite without the will to save face. He was completely in Harry's hands now. Oh boy was he ever.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he groaned long and very loud. Oh goddamn that was good.

Harry had introduced Seamus' hard cock to the flutter of buttery silk, draping the material lightly over the length of his dick, enticing a whimper from deep in his throat.

Seamus arched his back, head thrown back on the floor. This was unfair, devious even for Potter. He had a lot to learn obviously. He'd expected that it would be up to him to be the aggressor, how staggeringly wrong he was in that respect. Potter was in charge and he was the putty in his fist.

Speaking of fist, Seamus gasped when the hand tightened around him, the slide of cool silk rasping over his sensitized flesh- murder on his nerves.

Harry leant forward, their breath mingled as they panted into each other's open mouths. He was merciless, twisting his hand and jerking hard until Seamus sobbed, eyes watering with the strain of not being able to howl out his pleasure.

How did he know just what to do to get to him?

He scratched his painted nails over his balls. Seamus jerked violently, Harry grinning wickedly at the reaction.

A flutter of wings and a squeal of claws had both their heads swivelling towards the nearest window. Moonlight highlighted the brilliance of Hedwig's wings as she batted against glass demanding to be let inside.

Harry's attention swung back to the boy under him, debating whether to open the window or stay right where he was.

Seamus held his breath. He wouldn't beg, he wouldn't beg...

Inching forward, dipping his head to the side as Seamus reached for him. Nose, tucked into the junction between shoulder and neck, Harry used the flat of his tongue to lick a broad path up Seamus' throat, nibbling on his chin before gracefully rising to his feet and letting Hedwig into the common room.

"No, no, no..." Seamus chanted softly, offended that he had been passed over for a ruddy bird.

The owl looped around the room once before settling on the back of a chair. The letter could only be from one person as he had sent a note to the Burrow upon his return to Hogwarts. Seamus was forgotten as he eagerly tore into the envelope.

Seamus fixed his trousers with shaky hands. He was still painfully aroused. Disturbed by the silence that had fallen over the room, he moved over to where Harry was seated on the overstuffed couch. Seamus touched his shoulder and Harry slowly raised his head to stare icily up at him.

"What on earth is the matter?"

Harry flexed his fingers over the paper, creasing its crisp whiteness.

"Malfoy is staying at the Burrow. Ron has written some feeble excuse, but it's a lie. He's lied to me all along." He growled, balling the letter in his fist and hurling it into the flames.

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